


Marked in Constellation

by sojustifiable



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Not at the same time tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sojustifiable/pseuds/sojustifiable
Summary: Soul and Maka meet in the wilderness having embarked on solo trips up the Pacific Crest Trail. They're both sorely unexperienced, and a little company and team work never hurt anyone. Between hitch hiking to buy supplies and fending off a bear, the two get close. Very close. The question is, will their relationship survive the stress of city living once the journey is over?





	1. Tahoe National Forest & Gold Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for Resbang 2018! Huge thank you to my artist Sig for all the hard work and being there to yell about ideas to. I would not have been nearly as motivated to finish this project without you! Sig's art will be embedded in the fic and the full post linked from the GW site. 
> 
> Other big thank yous to Marsh and Whinnie for taking the time to beta and teach me how to use a goddang hyphen for once, and Sand for letting me brainstorm plot from the beginning.

Maka has always been one for grand gestures of independence. Separation never bothered her from kindergarten to college, but this might be a new level and she’s trying hard to convince herself it isn’t a mistake. What’s a girl to do when she graduates in June and her new lease in a new city doesn’t start until September? Most people her age would tell her to stay with her parents for a couple months and live rent free for one last easy summer, but not Maka. It wouldn’t work even if she wanted to. Her mom was in London in a tiny studio working a crazy journalist schedule. And her dad was… her dad.

She could stay with her dad for a couple months. It would be easy. It would be settling. It would be against everything Maka has been trying to tell him for the last four years, resisting help at every turn of the road since she turned eighteen.

The first alternative she had jumped to was a two-month long backpacking trip from Reno to Portland to fill the space. Not couchsurfing. Not subletting. What the hell was she thinking?

It’s not like she isn’t prepared. She’s gone camping before. She has all the gear. She’s in shape. She knows what she’s doing. It’s never been for this long before, though, and never alone.

Maka pulls her map out to have something else to focus on. Quitting isn’t part of her vocabulary and she’s not about to admit that this is a huge undertaking. She keeps walking while tracing her route with her eyes. Twelve miles a day for this section. It’s not a rigorous pace -- leaves lots of room for mishaps that may occur along the trail. The only problem if she gets ahead of schedule will be if her restock packages haven’t arrived yet.

The toe of her boot gets snagged on a root and Maka feels the sickening sensation of falling for about half a second before she catches herself. It would sure be something if she sprained her ankle two days into her trip and was stranded in the Tahoe National Forest. She puts the map away. The trail is rugged enough to require more of her attention and she can’t forget the fact that she is entirely alone in the wilderness.

Part of her is surprised she hasn’t run into any other people yet; there had been plenty of people on the Greyhound from Reno to Sacramento but no one else had deboarded in the town of Truckee, California. Then again, she’s starting midway through the trail and midway through the season. The absence of strangers doesn’t bother Maka, though, it’s the absence of spoken language that needles her.

“If it’s like this two days in, it’s going to be a long couple months,” she says to herself. Hearing her own voice with no reply might be worse than the quiet. She walks until the sun is behind the mountains. The sky is still light this time of mid summer, but it feels more like twilight without the light hitting the ground. The crickets start up their evening orchestra and Maka stops to make camp.

She runs into the first sign of other people on the third day: a family out for a day hike with their dog and a rambunctious four-year-old. They stand off the side of the trail as she walks by. Maka wishes they would let the dog say hello but knows they’re trying to be polite. Something bumps into her thighs. The kid has walked straight into her trying to kick a pinecone.

“Excuse me.” Maka smiles. Child does not. Child stares in the way only children can.

“Oh no, excuse us. Sorry. Come here, dear,” the parents bumble, tugging their kid away and down the path.

On the fourth day she takes a detour to Gold Lake for a swim and to remind herself there are in fact other people in the world. She pays the campsite fee and settles in early. The longest backpacking trip she’s gone on in the past was a week long and it was with a class so the teacher and teaching assistants had prepared a lot of the logistics. Now that she’s on her own she has to figure out how to do everything on her own.

Collecting everything she needs for a little basic hygiene, she fills up her water bottles with water from the lake and sneaks into the woods. Water, clothes, biodegradable detergent go into a ziplock and are shaken vigorously. Rinse and repeat. She lays her (relatively) cleaner clothes out to dry near her tent and heads for the lake. There are a few people skinny dipping right near the campsites but Maka picks her way along the shoreline until she’s out of sight to strip down. Baby wipes have kept her feeling mostly human the last few days but it feels good to rinse the grime out of her hair.

She goes to sleep to the sound of quiet voices and a crackling fire against the backdrop of woods and mountains.

Still air fills her lungs as she starts the walk back to the trail. It’s a couple miles along a road but there’s no car traffic to speak of. There is however a strange man standing on the side of the road, eyebrows wrinkled and eyes casting about. Maka could be a good samaritan and ask if he needs help but she’s not in the habit of talking to old men while alone in the woods. She crosses the street.

“Hey there.”

Maka flinches and makes sure she can feel her bear spray in the outside pocket of her backpack. “...Yes?”

“I’m trying to get back to the PCT trailhead, I haven’t missed it, have I?”

She squints at him from across the narrow road. He looks harmless enough, and potentially younger than she thought despite his silvered hair. “No, it’s still about another mile ahead,” she says. Doesn’t offer to walk him there. Wouldn’t want him getting the idea she’s looking for a hiking buddy.

“Thanks.” He hesitates, steps from one foot to the other. Maka holds still and waits for him to take the hint to keep walking. She doesn’t need the sensation of being followed even if she knows it’s some scrawny slouching slacker. Then it comes: “Are you headed that way?”

Maka has a practiced response for this type of situation. “I am, but I would prefer to walk alone.”

She expects a rebuttal, a plea to just give him a chance. Anything. But he just shrugs and starts to meander along. He sets an infuriatingly slow pace; it’s not even worth it to walk that slow so Maka steps off into the woods and dumps her backpack from her shoulders to pull out a snack. An hour later she gets up. That should be enough of a head start as long as she keeps her pace steady.

“Fingers crossed he’s headed southbound,” she mutters.

The next section of trail is a steep climb and Maka’s blood pumps in her ears as she pushes forward step by step. She would kick herself for forgetting to fill up on water when she left the lake. There should be a pond not far off the trail just another half a mile ahead if she keeps pushing. Eyes peeled for water on the left side of the trail, she almost trips again and vows to stop shuffling her feet. If only her boots weren’t so goddamn heavy.

A gap in the trees, a flash of bright sun on water. Maka has her sights set on fresh water until another flash of something bright catches her eye. It’s the shambling layabout with the white hair. If he’s stopping for a break this would be the perfect chance to get ahead of him and be done with it, but she’s not going to make it up to McRae Ridge without at least a liter of water. She’ll just swoop in there, fill up, and run the UV purifier while she walks.

Busting through the bushes, dual Nalgenes in hand, she dunks both water bottles into the pond with her eyes still glued to her unwanted trail partner. He’s staring off into space in the opposite direction, so maybe if she’s quick enough he won’t even notice. Thirty-two ounce water bottles are slightly heavier when full than empty, however. Maka miscalculates the grip required to keep them in hand and drops them both into the pond with a splash that disturbs the peace of the entire forest.

The man looks over. Maka had still been staring at him when she destroyed her sense of dignity and doesn’t have time to look away. It’s all or nothing. Maintaining eye contact for the intimidation factor, she fumbles for the bottles, gives a small nod, and backs her way back towards the trail. She has to stop to put the lids back on but she waits until she’s far enough along the trail to be safely out of sight, resulting in a lot of splashing. It’s fine. This is fine.

When she _does_ stop to get her life in order, she examines the water she had acquired. Dropping the bottles so close to the edge must have disturbed the pond floor because her water is now murky. Oh well -- a little dirt never hurt anyone. As long as she purifies it properly so she doesn’t contract giardia. She’ll get a little further head start before she dares to stop again, though. If she gets far enough she should never have to face her shame again.

A couple very thirsty miles down the trail, she stops to pull her purifier from it’s home in the outermost pocket of her backpack and remembers what she forgot yesterday afternoon. It blinks a sad, empty red blink. No battery.

Deep breath. She has options. She’s not going to die this second. She has a solar charger. It’s buried a little further down in her backpack so she ends up strewing a fair number of things around to get to it. Her phone has been staying turned off for emergencies so Maka hasn’t used the charger yet, but it shouldn’t be too hard to use. With a little rearranging and finagling carabiners, she gets it hooked onto the top of her backpack so she should be able to keep walking. The path is fairly shaded here but once she gets a little higher up there should be more sun. She may be thirsty but she’s at no risk for dehydration. Mama was always a big proponent of the ‘no pain no gain’ philosophy.

There’s a long downhill stretch into a valley and Maka has to restrain herself from sprinting; carrying a fifty pound backpack, the downs could be as bad for her knees as the ups. She trudges with a spring in her step. Something like a voice calls down the wind but when she turns she sees nothing but trees up the hill behind her. Could be an elk.

The good days can’t last forever. For every valley there must be a mountain and now she must pay the price for her relaxing descent: A thousand foot climb over the last mile to the peak. Maka sweats just looking at it. Sunset isn’t for hours -- she can take it as slow as she wants. And by the time she reaches the top she should have a full battery and can take a well deserved water break.

One foot after the other.

“Hey!” Maka whips around. From down the side of the mountain, a familiar face.

“I’m not looking for hiking company,” she shouts back over the wind and picks up her pace.

“That’s not it!”

She can tell he’s breathing heavily. There shouldn’t be any problem losing him unless he’s determined enough to catch up with her after hours. That’s what bear spray is for. She starts power striding up the hill despite the complaints of her dry throat and trembling legs.

“Seriously, wait up.” He’s jogging with his goddamn backpack on -- he can’t possibly be human.

Maka tries to mentally check if her bear spray is easily accessible. “If I listen to what you have to say will you leave me the hell alone?”

He holds something up. “Is this yours?”

It’s her solar charger.

“Oh, um. Yeah. Shoot.” She reaches for it, fumbles, drops it on the ground, bends over. Her backpack slides forward and smacks her in the back of the head. Her grace and intimidation stats continue to drop. “It must’ve fallen off my backpack, I was trying to charge while I was walking,” she says. Pressing the battery check, it looks like it at least has enough juice to power up her purifier; this earnest-looking sweaty man with a bandana tied around his neck is turning her dry throat into the Sahara.  

“I know you want to be left alone -- it just looked like something you would probably need.” His boots scuff the dusty path.

“Thanks,” Maka croaks. She needs water _now._ With a resigned sigh she unclips her backpack and slings it to the side of the path. Once her knees bend the exhaustion of hiking dehydrated all day hits so she sits down before she falls down.

“You okay?”

She wishes he would just leave and quit the concerned good samaritan act; men never want nothing for something. “I’m fine,” she grits out. “Just need to purify my water.”

Maka plugs the purifier into the charger and takes one of her water bottles to the side. Her spectator’s face visibly contorts. “You’re not going to drink that are you?”

“What?” She shakes the murky bottle. “A little dirt never hurt anyone -- the UV will take care of the bacteria.”

“I don’t know how much light is gonna get through. That looks damn near opaque,” he mutters.

“It’ll be fine,” she replies, words measured, voice flat. The purifier powers. Drinkable, if not clean, water in sights, Maka is about to dip it in when--

“You know there were mosquito larvae in that pond, right?”

No. Of course she didn’t. No one in their right mind would willingly ingest the devil’s spawn. She must be ascending this dude’s crazy meter by the second. There’s some slim chance he’s pulling her leg, but, sarcastic as he is, she doubt’s it’s a lie. Still, Maka lifts the bottle to eye level to see what her heart already knows is there. If there was much in her stomach she would’ve vomited but instead she just gags and tells herself she would’ve noticed before she actually drank any.

“Here.” He hands her a hydro flask. So, he’s annoying _and_ rich -- what delightful company she’s acquired.

She doesn’t take the bottle from his hand. “How do I know you didn’t roofie this?”

He wears skeptical nonchalance with grace, raising an eyebrow. “You think I would bring roofies into the wilderness and then put them in my own water bottle?”

“Maybe you just put it in to give to unsuspecting damsels in distress you happen upon on the trail.” She spits the phlegm from her throat much less gracefully than he composes his stupid chiseled features.

The man takes a long drink himself.

“Maybe you just like roofies,” she grumbles.

“Hey now, I may have smoked a little weed in college but I don’t think anyone enjoys being drugged unconscious.” He’s getting annoyed now. “There isn’t another water source for another couple miles down from the peak, and that’s assuming you make it to the top.”

She doesn’t respond.

“I would say take it or leave it, but I don’t want to be the last person to have seen you when they find your dried out body in the woods.” He nudges the water bottle against the side of her face like a child demanding attention for their macaroni art project.

Reluctant as she is to take a drink from a stranger, he’s right that she doesn’t have many choices. The human body can survive a couple days without water but strenuous hiking with a backpack is likely to shorten that window. Finally she swallows some of the water along with her pride.

“I’m Soul, by the way,” the man says, taking another drink himself and screwing back on the lid.

“Thanks for the water, Cole.” Can’t have him getting too comfortable.

If he caught her mistake he doesn’t comment, nor does he ask for her name. “I’m assuming you want a head start again?”

“No.” Maka sighs. “You go ahead.” Even with a little more water in her system she’s not about to be moving very fast.

Soul nods and starts back up the hill. Maka waits for him to be reasonably out of sight before pouring both bottles of water out, watching the flood rush down the mountain before it gets sucked up by the thirsty earth. If only she could do the same. She looks at her map while she bides her time. Worst comes to worst there is a stream a few hundred feet off trail close to the top. It would mean climbing her way back up and who knows what the conditions are like but it’s something to focus on.

When a suitable amount of time has passed she starts marching up the hill again. It’s rocky and tough going but she’s tough too. Mama didn’t raise a quitter. She walks and she sweats and she walks some more. The air is getting a little cooler as she climbs in altitude. It’s cooler, but also a little thinner -- not enough to make it hard to breathe, but just enough to make hiking uphill a nightmare. She doesn’t want to look ahead because she doesn’t want to see how much further she has to go. But then, her boot crunches down on something she hadn’t expected.

Snow. Maka thought by leaving mid-June and avoiding the higher elevation peaks further south in California she would have avoided it, but here it is. It’s not deep, and the trail is still accessible, but it’s there. She’s so hot she scoops up a handful and rubs it on her wrists and her neck, flinching at the cold but enjoying it all the same. Only when it melts and runs down her arms does she remember that snow is also water. It’s by no means fresh but it doesn’t look awful either. She’s certainly still going to use her purifier but it’s a big step up from mosquito water.

Greedily packing both bottles with snow she returns to the task at hand with renewed vigor. She’ll still have to wait for it to actually melt to drink but she might as well keep moving.

Maka reaches the top of the ridge later in the afternoon than she had hoped, but she’s there. Her snow water is still a slurry of water and bits of ice and a little dirt. That’ll do. She lets the purifier do its work. Then drinks too much at once and gets a brain freeze. This day has really got it out for her. At least she’s not going to die with the last person she spoke to being Soul McSarcasm.

She still has to get a ways down the mountain to find a snow-free place to set up camp for the night. By time she does find a good spot, the sun is getting low in the sky, which is not a good sign for being so close to the solstice. The light of another campfire blinks through the trees, undoubtedly Soul.

Maka sleeps lightly knowing someone else isn’t too far away but she does sleep. He seems about as harmless as a stranger can be.

* * *

 Two days later and Maka has kept her distance from Soul. Which is infuriating because making sure she doesn’t cross him on the trail again means staying behind his pace which is slower than she’d like. She knows it’s working because she can see his fire in the distance at night, but at what cost? Last night they had even ended up staying at the same campground which meant Maka had to wait until odd hours of the night to use the bathroom, because she wasn’t about to let him know she had followed him. Joke’s on her for trusting that he was following the trail when he was heading off for amenities. She won’t admit how nice it is to pee in a toilet again.

She had planned on sneaking out of the campsite ahead of him to get back ahead on the trail but he must’ve gotten an early start too because she almost had a run in. Earlier that morning she had spotted Soul when they were still on the road and immediately took a dive into the bushes to make sure he didn’t spot her. She’s a disaster.

It’s a beautiful day, and the forest is calm with the sound of birds, but a creeping sensation inches up Maka’s neck all the same. She had forgotten the unease she had woken up with when she had her incident. Now that misgiving settles back into her gut like a shot of tequila.

Maka picks up the pace.

Catching up to Soul takes even less time than she expected. The layabout isn’t even walking, he’s sitting off the side of the trail adjusting the straps of his backpack like that’s going to make it any lighter. He glances up at her as she approaches.

“What’s up?” His voice is low, smooth, carefully casual.

Maka tightens her ponytail. “Oh, nothing.” She hates how out of breath she sounds. “Just got a weird feeling on the trail.”

“So you’re coming to me for protection?” The corner of Soul’s mouth twitches and she catches a flash of a dimple, so brief she could have imagined it.

“No,” she huffs. “But if there’s a bear behind me, I want you between me and it.”

“Harsh,” Soul says. “Leaving me to the bears.”

Maka glares at him but he’s not much one for eye contact so it takes her a good minute to get his attention. “Seriously though, do you ever get the feeling that you’re being followed?”

“Sure,” he answers. “The last couple days you’ve been on my ass.”

She can’t stand witty people. Intelligence and dedication have always been admirable traits in her book, but glib wittiness has the potential to send people to her blacklist before they can call foul. Still. He’s been close enough to hurt her and far away enough from civilization for no one to find out. Maka doesn’t deign to answer.

“I would suggest we walk together a bit,” Soul says, his eyes finally meeting hers for any length of time. She had thought they were brown but up close they’re closer to burgundy, almost like a red wine. “If,” he continues, “you weren’t so opposed to the idea of company.”

_Maybe I’m just opposed to your company._ Maka almost says it aloud. But she trusts her gut and if there’s someone or something behind them on the trail, her sense of self-preservation has to come above her dignity. “You walk so slow, I have to get ahead of you some time anyway.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner.” Soul stands up. Apparently his backpack straps are to his satisfaction.

She’s just relieved that he takes this as an acceptable hint and doesn’t feel the need to drag her off her high horse yet. The mosquito water incident has left her low and her ego has a long climb ahead.

The trail isn’t wide enough to hike side by side, and Maka’s not interested in walking and talking anyway. So she follows behind Soul, much as she has been for the last couple days, but now she’s close enough to smell the scent of campfire and bug spray. It’s surprisingly not a bad combination. She doesn’t want to think about what she probably smells like but it’s not like anyone can expect anything at midday several miles into a hike. The hairs stand up on the back of her neck but the source of her anxiety is definitely behind her on the trail, not in front.

“Switch spots with me.” Soul smoothly spins around her and nudges her in front of him on the trail.

Maka goes along with it because all of her energy right now is focused on attuning herself to her surroundings, but she doesn’t understand Soul’s intentions until a couple minutes later. Faint voices drift up the trail.

Soul leans forward, putting a hand on her backpack for a second to get close to her ear. “I have something in mind but it might be easier if I knew your name.”

His voice seems to drop an extra half-octave when he whispers and it doesn’t help Maka’s chill. “Make one up,” she grits out, picking up her pace.

“Okay, Beatrice,” Soul says.

“Not convincing considering I’m not an eighty year old woman.”

“Maude.”

“Close enough.”

Whoever is behind them is getting closer; they’ve stopped talking but Maka can hear their footsteps in time with her own. Soul gives her a little more space and raises his voice a little, just loud enough to sound convincingly Not Fake. “Hey Maude, did Blaine say how far ahead they would wait for us to catch up?”

Improvising isn’t exactly her strongest trait but Maka is smart and quick to pick things up. “He just mentioned camping by water.”

“Feather River might be a good spot, I’ll let him know we’ll be there soon.” He pulls a phone out of his pocket, even though he can’t possibly have service out here, then abruptly stands off the side of the path while holding his fake conversation.

Three men trudge past them, the first pausing for a second to glance over them before rolling his shoulders and pressing forward. They aren’t carrying much gear but Maka catches the outline of a handgun in the backpocket of the man in front.

“Yeah, we’re just a couple miles out.” Soul says into his phone. “Tell Killik I’m looking forward to that famous trout.”

Now he’s fabricating not one but two fake members of their party. The prowlers turn back one last time before deciding they’re not worth it and moving along.

Once they’re safely out of earshot Maka lets the breath she was holding. She’s confident in her self-defense skills but those odds wouldn’t have been in her favor, especially not knowing how Soul would fare under pressure. Though her impression of him is quickly rising with the fact that he just dodged any sort of situation to begin with.

“I saw those guys prowling around digging through tents at Little Grass,” Soul mutters, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Who are Blaine and Killik?” Maka asks, immediately regretting it. Dumb adrenaline making her ask dumb questions.

He shrugs. “Just a couple guys I knew in college -- I was just pulling names to take the target off our backs.”

“That was smart.” It hurts to admit that she didn’t think of it herself. “By the time they get to Feather River it probably won’t be worth it to them to hike all the way back here.”

“I hope so,” Soul says. Maka realizes that his knees are shaking too and maybe she’s not the only one freaking out a little. He looks up, eyes a little desperate. “How do you feel about sticking together for a little longer?”

_Thank god._ She nods, relief flooding her veins, anxiety replaced with a growing curiosity around a Skype call with the only Blaine she knows complaining about how lame his punk vampire roommate is. Doesn’t quite sound like Soul.

They end up setting up camp not too much further along, neither one of them keen on catching up with the marauders. There’s safety in numbers but Maka also doesn’t have the energy to socialize after hiking all day and looking death in the eye. She pitches her tent far away enough from Soul to send a message and he doesn’t question it. Now she just has to settle in and figure out how to relax. Maybe warm food will help.

A twig snaps and her heart rate doubles until she hears the accompanying voice.

“Hey, um…” Soul calls out, leaving a blank where she could fill in her name.

She doesn’t. “What do you want? You can’t have any of my oatmeal,” she says.

“I wasn’t--”

“You were eyeing it.” Maka waves her spoon as threateningly as one can.

Staredowns are right up her alley, but Soul has a practiced apathy that makes her not even want to try. She attends to her pot.

“I was just--” Soul starts.

Maka looks up, daring him to finish.

“I was going to ask if you wanted any zip-ties.” He reaches out a hand as if to a skittish deer. It takes a second to sink in what the purpose would be but when it does, Maka takes them from him with wide eyes. “It won’t keep someone out forever if they have a knife, but it’ll buy you time.”

“I have a knife,” Maka says casually.

Soul nods and retreats back to his own tent. It wasn’t intended as a threat; a knife is a normal tool to carry camping. It still doesn’t hurt to have a little fear on her her side and intimidation doesn’t come easy when you don’t stand much higher than five feet.

She sleeps with her bear spray in one hand, and her knife in the other. It couldn’t hurt to stick with Soul for one more day.

It’s quiet in the morning when she wakes up. Her travelling companion must be a late riser. Maka’s desire to get an early start is now at war with her herd instinct, which is already fighting her sense of pride. What’s a girl to do? She’ll stay in her tent for another twenty minutes and if he’s not up when she comes out, she’ll be on her way. There’s a chance she’ll just walk at a snail’s pace to give him a chance to catch up. As long as he gets the picture that you snooze, you lose.

Rain-flies have an uncanny ability to create a small-scale greenhouse effect. The sun starts to warm the air in her tent to sticky, uncomfortable levels, and Maka shimmies out of her sleeping bag to face the day. She’ll just check to see if Soul is still sleeping before she packs up camp and hits the trail. Birds warble and fill the cool mountain morning; Maka picks her way through the underbrush to Soul’s campsite. She’s careful with her feet; if he’s not already up that’s his problem and she won’t wake him, be it on purpose or accident. The smell of coffee hits her nostrils though, and she realizes she may have miscalculated her newfound trail buddy.

“G’morning,” he says, raising his tin cup to his lips.

Maka gapes. His tent is packed up, his pack open but consolidated. How did he--? Without waking her--? Even now he moves silently around his camp stove to collect the last of his things.

“Are you ready to go?” Soul asks, eyebrows crinkling to an expression Maka can’t place as amusement or annoyance.

She starts backing towards her own tent. “Just give me a minute.”

That asshat, he hadn’t been that far off, she should’ve been able to hear him going about his morning. Maybe the birds were just extra loud that morning -- her senses can’t be that dulled. And now she’s the one rushing to get ready when she could’ve used her morning to make some food or wash her hair. He had asked if she was ready to go like he expected them to hike together again; she should just start walking the other direction and be rid of him. But, she had been working on the same assumption of a little more tentative companionship.

Maka gets her things together in a rush and meets Soul back on the trail with a glare. They walk mostly in silence, pausing to drink water, check their mileage. They make camp within shouting distance of each other and continue the next day much the same. Soul doesn’t push her for more personal information, doesn’t even keep prying for her actual name. With just the two of them there isn’t much need for names anyway, there’s no one else they could even try to talk to.

The third day of this pattern they cross the river into Belden and Maka stops into the post office to check for the food she had asked her friend Tsubaki to send. There were some long stretches they would go through without passing through a town big enough to have its own grocery store. For those times, she had left money to have packages sent with more dry goods and a little hardy fresh fruit.

“You’re not waiting on any packages, are you?” Maka asks, picking an apple and offering one to Soul while they sit on the side of the river.

“Not here, I restocked in Sierra City and I was planning on picking up more groceries in Chester.”

She watches as he fishes in his back pocket for a knife and starts cutting into the fruit while holding it solidly in one hand. “You’re going to cut a finger off like that,” Maka comments, tearing off the stem of her own apple and biting into the top.

“I always eat apples like this,” Soul says, pausing to point at her, knife still in hand. It would seem threatening if he wasn’t so akin to a big mopey dog. “Now that’s a weird way to eat apples, core and all.”  

Maka rolls her eyes; it’s not the first time she’s heard that one. “You don’t waste any like this -- and don’t give me crap about the seeds being poisonous,” she fills in before he can open his mouth any wider. “You would have to chew up the seeds of fifty apples to get anywhere close to cyanide poisoning.”

“Thanks for the biology lesson, not like I went to college or anything.” He cuts off another piece. “I was just going to say I only know one other person who eats fruit like you. And,” Soul continues, waving his apple slice for good measure, “he’s also the only person I know who’s _weirder_ than you.”

“That’s a good one -- why don’t you just eat off the core like a normal person?” Maka scoffs.

“I don’t want to get my hands sticky.”

“There’s a river right there.”

“Why don’t you just throw the core away?” Soul shoots back.

“That’s littering.”

“It’s freakin’ compostable. The worms will be jazzed.”

“I don’t waste food, okay.” Squinting, Maka puts on her best ‘drop it’ look, earning her dropped eyes and a shrug. It almost makes her feel bad, but not quite. The more she slowly gets to know Soul, through mannerisms more than conversation, she learns he’s not one to stick up for needless confrontation. She just doesn’t know why that makes her want to push his buttons even more.

A conversation with her childhood friend Blaine comes back to her as he ranted about his college roommate.

_“It’s like he doesn’t say anything and then snaps off about how I haven’t washed the dishes in a week. If it bothers you just do it yourself, dude.”_

The whole situation had been ridiculous; clearly Blaine was in the wrong for being the definition of a slob. Yet, Maka’s takeaway had been to not push the quiet ones.

“Chester’s quite a ways off trail, isn’t it?” She hopes he’ll let her change the subject without anymore bickering.

“It’ll add an extra day in and out but I’ll probably hitchhike.”

_It’s your funeral._ Inside she wonders if they’ll still be hiking together a few days along when that time comes. Maybe that will be when they part ways. They’ve only known each other a few days, and she really knows nothing about him besides what she can glean from his behavior, and yet... Having exactly zero other people to talk to is probably skewing her judgment, and yet... He means nothing to her, and yet, she kinda likes having him around.

“What school did you go to, again?” Maka asks as if she’s merely forgotten as opposed to knowing nothing about him.

The corner of Soul’s mouth quirks up. “I’m supposed to tell you what school I went to when you haven’t even told me your name? Maude?”

They still aren’t past this, are they. There’s not many people with her name -- shoutout to her hippie father for making something up instead of just picking one. Maybe being Facebook friends wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing, though. She can always block him if he turns out to be weirder than the last few days have led her to believe. “You’ll tell me where you went to school if I tell you my name?”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. It’s give and take.”

“Well, you were right about the starting letter, but my name is Maka,” she says.

Five stages of confusion cross Soul’s face before something akin to enlightenment dawns. That can’t be right. Droopy eyes widen further than she’s ever seen before, and the lifted corner of Soul’s lips drops down, down into a grimace. “Oh damn.”


	2. Lassen National Forest & Butt Mountain

Walking and talking is hell but Soul is still reeling with this new information. He should’ve put the pieces together -- not that his roommate Blaine ‘Black Star’ Stark gave him that much to work with. Any and all stories he told were centered on the mighty man himself. And when he did deign to mention other people it was never in a flattering light. It was hard to reconcile this fiercely independent force of nature with the bratty bookworm Blaine had described. But _hell!_ There had been a picture with her on his desk, albeit covered in mud from some teenage camp obstacle course. Blaine had bragged about their team winning despite Maka’s best efforts to ruin everything. It’s true that Maka has a clumsy side he’s had the delight of witnessing, but seeing those calves of steel Soul has no doubt that she was a key player in that victory.

“Blaine told me his roommate’s name was _Solveig,_ ” Maka wheezes. She’s been in hysterics for the last mile and he’s starting to worry she’s going to keel over if she doesn’t stop laughing. At least this stretch of trail is downhill. “What kind of name is Solveig?”

Soul considers barrel rolling down the trail to get out of this conversation. “Scandinavian,” he answers. “My gran is Norwegian and she was pissed my parents gave my brother an English name. She was also convinced I was going to be a girl.”

“Wait, Solveig is--”

“Yep. A girl’s name. Though most people can’t tell just by hearing it, thank god. It’s like they were trying to set me up with gender identity issues,” Soul grumbles.

“Do you?” Maka asks, “Have gender identity stuff I should know about? Have I been using the wrong pronoun?”

He shrugs. “Nah. ‘M not particularly bothered about it all, though I’d hate to hear what Blaine told you _.”_

Her mouth opens, shuts again, opens a second time. “Nothing too bad.”

“Well, that’s an inspiring review.”   

“I don’t take anything the mighty Black Star says too seriously.” Maka’s walls haven’t exactly come tumbling down since the realization that they miraculously have a mutual friend, but she may be installing a few windows. “I guess that answers my question about what school you went to. You never struck me as a California boy.”

“We’re in California right now.” He scoffs. “But I’m from Connecticut.”

She doesn’t offer information in return. “So you picked the furthest away state you could, good choice.”

There’s so much Soul is curious about and he’s wracking his brain to remember bits of information among the ramblings of his roommate. Where was he from? Nebraska? Nevada? Somewhere he’d associate with being brown and yellow. “You’re from…”

Maka raises an eyebrow. Of course she couldn’t make things easier for him.

“Nuhh…”

Eyebrows waggle.

“...Vada?”

A single nod. “Ding ding. Death City, born and raised. I had to stay local for college too to save money, but now I get to make the great escape.”

Money can be a weird subject for Soul, coming from a family with a lot of it and rejecting the lifestyle of the rich and famous. He can’t deny the impact of his privilege on his college experience, however. “I never knew how Blaine got into UC Berkeley, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“He’d probably say willpower but I’m gonna say it was half sports scholarships and half me making him study,” Maka says. “It’s surprising what he can do when he puts his mind to it.”

“I take it you must be the smart one.” Maka has the kind of intelligence that seeps into the way she speaks no matter what she’s saying. Soul has no doubt she could’ve gone to whatever school she wanted to if money wasn’t a question.

“You could say that.” Her eyes look a thousand miles away and Soul can’t think of anything he could say to bring her back.

* * *

 

The next day is a grueling three thousand foot climb so walking and talking is out of the question. Soul has never been great at socializing anyway, relying on extroverts to pull his personality out into the open. But now he finds himself wanting to know more about this person who has gone from a slightly hostile stranger to an affable but reserved companion. How does one get to know other people as an adult without the built-in structure of college clubs and classes? Not that he had a ton of friends in college either. It was too hard to bridge the gap between someone to sit next to and complain with in lectures, to someone you were willing to sacrifice free time for. With loud roommates and a demanding schedule, alone time was a hot commodity during Soul’s school days, but here in the wilderness it’s in such abundance he finds himself wanting conversation and not knowing how to have it.

He could bring up little tidbits that have been coming back to him from conversations with Blaine, but he doesn’t want to use that as a social crutch even if it is what has made Maka more comfortable around him. The guy isn’t exactly someone you want to brag about being friends with, though she probably knows that more than anyone. She still pitches her tent a ways off in the trees from him.

After the initial burst of conversation upon realizing their single commonality, they don’t talk much.

“There’s a creek about another mile ahead,” Maka says, taking a long drink of water. She’s always sure to know where to stop after the Incident. “We should refill on water there, there’s not going to be another source close to trail until we’re over the next peak.”

“It doesn’t have mosquitoes in it, does it?”

She gives him a look that could pierce steel. “I guess we won’t know until we check.” She turns away quickly but Soul can see the back of her neck is pinking through her tan and he doesn’t think it’s sunburn.

Maybe he could get on her good side if only it wasn’t so entertaining to tease her. He’ll leave off for now, though. “What’s this peak anyway?”

They’ve been over Spanish Peak and Mount Pleasant; there’s so many goddamn mountains out here and someone has taken it on themselves to name every dip and crest. But nothing could prepare him for the answer to come.

Maka pinches her lips as she scans the map. Her eyes pause on the same spot a few times but keep roving around as if the answer is unacceptable to her. “It’s uh… Butt Mountain.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She shoves the map in his face. “Take a look for yourself.”

“That’s not with an ‘E’ on the end, is it?” He scans the page for the offending summit; surely she’s misreading it.

A finger jabs into the map and there it is. “I know how to say butte, you idiot, and a butte is another type of landform anyway. Didn’t you take geology?”

“No.” What kind of major does this girl have to have taken geology? That’s the real question here, but sure enough there is Butt Mountain smack under her dirty and bitten fingernail. It has to be a typo or a joke or something. Or someone just has a sense of humor similar to his old roommate. “Oh.” Soul’s voice drops to a whisper. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes, we are climbing the world’s fattest ass today. I can’t believe this.” Maka grabs the map back, hastily folding it and sliding it back into one of her backpack’s outer pockets.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Soul sputters. He’s going to have to physically hold his mouth shut to keep from laughing -- she said it so seriously too.

“It doesn’t even look like a butt. Who named this idiotic piece of rock.” She huffs and hikes her straps up on her shoulders.

If she says butt one more time he’s going to lose it. Maka looks like she’s in it to win it, like she’s ready to conquer and claim Butt Mountain for Death City and beyond.   

They stop for water and Maka makes an extra show of checking that the water is clear before using her UV sterilizer on both of her one-liter bottles. He hates carrying water uphill but he knows it’s the right call after seeing how out of sorts Maka had been facing dehydration a week or so back.

“Mind if I borrow that?” Soul asks as Maka starts tucking it back into its case.

She squints and he’s starting to recognize that face as one that means somewhere between hell no and bite me. “How have you been cleaning your water the last two weeks? How long have you been hiking anyway?”

“Around South Lake Tahoe, and I have iodine tablets but they taste kinda gross so I just thought I’d ask.” He wasn’t trying to cause some kind of boundary problem, he just figured since they were solar charged it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Apparently Maka just requires an explanation because she hands over the sterilizing pen without further comment.

They start up the mountain and Maka is quiet except for the ragged sounds of her breathing. It’s sometimes hard to place her emotions, not because she makes them hard to read, but because she seems to exaggerate every feeling to the maximum level. Thus, he can’t tell if she’s super pissed at him or just slightly annoyed, and what about?

“Sorry for making fun of you about the water thing,” he mumbles. Maybe he can trial and error his way into appeasing her, but then again he was never very good at battleship.

It’s a miss. “Stop bringing it up then.”

“I haven’t been laughing at you.”

A pause. A hit? “Okay.”

“It’s just… we’re in all these majestic mountains and nature and all that, and someone was out here at some point and decided to name this place _Butt Mountain._ Who does that?”

“What would you name it then?”

Here’s his one chance at redemption, a chance to make her laugh instead of rolling her eyes. “I’d go all in and call it Butt Crag.”

A noise comes out of Maka’s throat somewhere between choking and screaming -- that can’t possibly be laughter. “I’m going to kick your butt after I kick this butt’s butt.”

They make it over the top of the peak and down the other side to camp at Soldier’s Creek. Soul offers to make some powdered eggs so now he’s squatting across from Maka, a cookstove between them, while she intermittently bursts into laughter. The butt broke her.

“We’re getting close to Chester,” he remarks, still unclear where she stands on his plan to get into town. On one hand, he desperately needs to resupply. On the other, if she goes on ahead without him he’s going to have a hell of a time catching up.

“Mm.” Maka quiets and looks into the tiny flame of the stove which is quickly becoming their only source of light in the dimming sunset.

“We’ll be hitting Highway 36 in a few miles.” If he keeps adding details he _could_ get her to respond in some meaningful way.

“I suppose you want me to come with you?” Maka’s eyes flicker with light but he can’t read her expression.

She’s skittish to say the least, so it’s going to take some careful sentence crafting to express that he would enjoy her company without scaring her off. “Unless you want me to get kidnapped by a trucker.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy, I never have to speak to you again.”

That stings a little; Soul doesn’t make friends easily and he thought they were getting somewhere. “You don’t have to speak to me _right now_ ,” he points out. “But who’s eating whose eggs? Hm?”

Her eyes lower and the only sound for a few minutes is the hiss of propane and the scraping of spatula on aluminum. Sometimes Maka speaks without thinking but this time she seems to be giving her response due thought. “Of course I don’t want something bad to happen to you, but I’m also not interested in becoming a headline myself.”

He could point out that hitchhiking is generally safer and more successful with a second person. The reality of the situation, though, is that she could be at more risk by virtue of her gender, and he can’t ask her to put her safety aside so he can have the joy of her sarcastic and closed off company. “I understand,” Soul says, because he does. Admittedly he’s afraid of the idea of getting in a car with a stranger himself and he may chicken out and walk the extra sixteen-mile round trip if he’s on his own. “Plate?”

Maka hands over her tin dish with a sigh. “I’ll decide when we get there.”

It’s better than he’d hoped for considering how she’d responded in the first place. He’ll try not to get his hopes up that she actually enjoys his company though. There’s safety in numbers and they both know that all too well after their close encounter with trail prowlers.

“Thanks for the eggs,” Maka says before scraping the last bits directly into her mouth. “See you in the morning.”

She pitches her tent within sight of his for the first, and maybe last, time.

Maka is chipper the next morning, up before him and making oatmeal as seems to be the bulk of her backpacking diet. Soul desperately wants to ask if she made a decision about going into Chester but he’s not about to push the issue. Eventually they will hit the highway and she’ll make whatever choice she’s comfortable with.

It’s an easy three miles down the last stretch of Butt Mountain and across the creek on a study footbridge. The highway seems to come out of nowhere, from forest to asphalt with no sign of civilization nearby. A healthy gravel shoulder protects them from passing cars but it’s not exactly heavy on the traffic. Even in high tourist season the road is empty.

“So?” Soul pushes his hair out of his face, as nonchalant of a gesture as he can muster.

“I don’t see what car you’re going to get in.” Maka replies to his non-question, dramatically miming a search for what they both know isn’t there.

“There will be one,” he huffs. Right on time a car peeks over the horizon and starts its way towards them while Soul waves it over from the shoulder. “See, there’s one. So are you coming?”

Maka steps from foot to foot. “I don’t know. I think the guidebook said there was a lodge around here, maybe I’ll wait around.”

His hand freezes of its own volition. The car breezes past with a passing moment of heavy bass before vanishing over the next rise in the road. He hadn’t considered the possibility that she might wait for him to come back. “You…” he starts, “want to keep hiking together?”

“Well, yeah.” It’s almost cute the way she flusters; it makes him want to tease an even more satisfying reaction out of her, but their burgeoning friendship is on thin ice and he can’t afford a misstep. “You’re tolerable.”

“A high compliment.”

“If you would quit the snark for half a second,” she hisses. “Solo hiking was fine but it’s a long way to the Columbia River and I doubt I’m going to come across someone else on the trail I can actually trust.”    

Never in a million years did Soul expect such sincerity, and now that he’s gotten it he has no choice but to respond in kind. “Hey, I’m not keen on getting in a stranger’s car by myself either. I came on this trip to… I guess, get myself out there more but if you’re not down we could just walk. I know it would add some time to the trip but we could make up the time--”

“You’re slow enough as it is.”

Soul swallows the fear and dust coating his throat, making him cough. “So that’s a yes?”

“Well…” Maka starts and he doesn’t know how much more of the jerking back and forth he can handle. “I think we should _start_ walking in case that was the only car that stops today.”

“So that’s a yes?!” His brother is going to be so damned shocked when he hears about this one. Solveig the shy is is going to hitchhike and live to tell the tale.

“I have standards though,” she quickly adds. “Anyone in a M.A.G.A hat is out.”

Being in a coastal liberal bubble in California he hadn’t thought of that one but it’s certainly a given in his book. “Sure.”

“And I think we should have a game plan if things go south.”

The fear is starting to crawl back up his chest but Soul is desperately trying not to think about the worst case scenario. There’s two of them so they won’t be a target and they’re not on a major thruway anyway. “If things get dodgy I’ll take over the wheel while you beat the crap outta someone.”

Maka doesn’t hesitate a second. “Deal.”

They start walking down the side of the road but quickly run into the issue that the only cars they can spot at enough of a distance are going out of town, not into it. And when they do hear a car approaching from the rear it’s too late to wave them down. An overstuffed station wagon waves apologetically, children’s feet and dog head waving out the rear seat window. Even if it was physically possible to fit another person in that car, let alone two, Soul doesn’t think he’d want to try. After an unsuccessful mile of walking and hastily trying to flag down cars that have already passed, they commit to settling in and staring someone down until they have to break down and give them a ride.

Finally a delivery truck slows and signals its way over. They carefully back into the bushes to leave plenty of shoulder room to spare and await the face of their savior. A man leans over and pushes open the passenger side door and Soul isn’t quite sure what to think of the guy. He’s got a basketball tank top and two full sleeves of tattoos, shoulder length hair in dreads. The scary thing is though is that the dude is jacked, way more bicep than any truck driver really needs.

“Name’s Sid.” The man reaches a hand out, Maka takes it and pulls herself into the cab of the truck. “I take it you kids are headed into Chester?”

Soul resents being called a kid but he’s not about to argue with a guy who has arms bigger than his torso. “Uh, yeah.”

“There’s only one seat but you two should both fit. You’re both skinny -- couple of dirty vagabonds out in the woods for the summer.”

“We’re on the PCT--” Soul starts to explain.

“Of course, why else would you be out here,” Sid says, setting Maka’s backpack between the two seats while she pulls Soul up and in.

He has to stoop awkwardly to take his backpack off and realizes he should’ve passed it up before climbing in. Maka edges over on the seat, trying to make space for them but it’s clear there’s going to be at least a little touching if they’re going to get the door shut and the seat belt buckled.

“What are you doing out here then, if I may ask?” Maka says, remembering at the last second that they should probably be polite to someone who has the power to kick them back out onto the highway.

“Dropping off packages for local distribution up 99 and across 36, I’ll be going out to Susanville then back home to Sacramento tonight,” Sid says, turning the key in the ignition.

Soul gets so distracted by how a day’s drive is equivalent to two weeks of backpacking that he almost forgets to freak out about their circumstances.

“Can you close the door?” Maka asks, still only half sitting on the seat. He _can_ close the door but that’s going to put him in very close proximity to his travelling companion no matter how hard he tries. As far as people in his personal space go, Maka isn’t too bad, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable either.

“Uh yeah,” Soul says for the second time in five minutes. He slams the truck door shut and tries to give Maka as much space as he can which is still only a few inches. “Sorry,” he mumbles, trying to turn in the seat somehow so their shoulders aren’t smashed together. Unfortunately the only way to achieve that is for one of them to lean forward and the other back and they’re not the most coordinated.

“Buckled in?” Sid asks. “Technically a ticket either way, but my conscience will be clear.”

“Of course.” Maka leans over to pull the single seatbelt across both of them, essentially tying them together.

Sid nods and turns the key. A blaring guitar solo immediately blasts their hair out of their faces as the radio kicks on to a classic rock station. Their driver makes no move to turn down the music, instead contributing a steering wheel drum accompaniment to the mix. Maka stares straight out the window, shoulders tensed, likely to resist plugging her ears. They’re in for a long nine miles.

At the first sign of civilization Maka tries to gesture for Sid to turn down the music, he doesn’t take the hint, and she eventually turns it down herself. “You can let us out here, thank you so much for the ride.”

They start to roll into a gas station; Soul can almost taste the sweetness of some goddamn quiet.

“You sure?” Sid asks. “Motels and groceries are up at the other end of town.”  

“Nope, this is good -- wouldn’t want you getting a traffic violation.”

“Fair, fair. Well, I should be headed back through this way in a couple hours. I’ll check this spot before I head back, so if you’re leaving today and haven’t found a ride back out of town I can take you back to the trail or there’s a nice little lodge right by there. Very romantic spot.”

Soul has to clear up that misconception fast before his face overheats. He’s never been good at talking to girls and he doesn’t want the only one he’s friends with to think he has any ulterior motives. “Oh we’re not--”

“Again, thanks for the ride,” Maka interrupts, leaning back over him to pull the latch.

With the seatbelt no longer holding them in place, Soul nearly falls out of the truck onto the pavement, saved only by wildly flailing and grabbing onto Maka’s hand on his way down. She holds them surprisingly steady, lowering him carefully before handing down both of their backpacks without making eye contact. Better pretend that never happened.

All in all it wasn’t the worst first hitchhiking experience that he could’ve had. His ears should recover _most_ of their hearing.

“Can’t say I’m too keen to go back with that guy,” Soul says, adjusting his backpack straps since they apparently have more walking to do.

“Hey now, he was nice.”

“Sure, telling us all about the romantic inn for us to stay at tonight--ow!” It doesn’t really hurt when Maka lightly shoves his shoulder but it still comes as a surprise especially since touching has never really been a part of their budding friendship.

“You’re not funny.” Her indignant frown, and that pink face, that could as easily be either blush or just the sun, is an endearing combination he thinks he’d like to see more of.

Unfortunately she has decided she’s had enough and starts stomping off into town as fast as one can carrying as much weight as they’re carrying.

All he can do is follow, calling, “I think I’m pretty funny.”

Maka just waves, unclear if it’s intended to wave him off or beckon him onward so once again he’s left trying to interpret. She can’t really be mad at him--

“You coming or what?” she calls back over her shoulder. Doubts clear away on the dusty breeze, for now.

The whole town is fully in the summer tourism season. People clearly uncomfortable to have their feet off the ground amble by on horses who look like they’ve seen too much. A truck rolls past with the bed packed with teenagers each weilding a fishing rod Soul can only hope they know better than to cast towards anyone. You only have to get a hook stuck in your cheek from your dumb rich cousins once to be wary forever. Even in a sleepy spot like this, the noise of people is jarring after spending a couple of weeks in the woods. He’ll be glad to get supplies and get out.

Soul is pleasantly surprised by the selection in the single grocery store Chester has to offer. He can’t find the right fuel for his camp stove but if he can mooch off of Maka until they get to Old Station he’ll be fine. The girl checking them out doesn’t look too happy to see customers, though.

“How’s your day going?” Maka asks, smiling. She’s apparently one of those people who is more polite to cashiers than anyone else and while Soul finds that entirely respectable he finds himself envious to not be on the receiving end of it.

Their cashier does not share Maka’s enthusiasm. Her eyes roll, her lips crinkle, matte black lipstick cracking in the process. Between the odd makeup and heavy white wig, she doesn’t exactly look cut out for the small town California life, but who’s he to judge.

“Fine,” she finally answers before muttering, “until you lot came in,” not entirely under her breath.

Maka’s polite smile stays plastered on her face. “You weren’t about to close, were you?”

The girl sighs. “I wish. What kind of grocery store would close at four in the afternoon? Doesn’t mean I want any customers.”

Soul is shocked. He did a stint in a fast food restaurant to ‘build character’ according to his grandmother, and he had always wished he could say shit to some of the particularly awful customers but he never _did._ Besides, they weren’t even doing anything for fear of being fired. How this girl is holding onto a job he does not know. Though there can’t be too many people jumping at the opportunity to work in a grocery store on the border of about five national parks and forests during summer season.

Maka’s smile finally drops but she just nods and says, “Understandable.”

Are they participating on the same level of reality? Their cashier squints, looks out the window, and opens her mouth. “There’s never any good Pokemon in here.”

The girl has pulled out her phone and is playing Pokemon Go like it’s two thousand sixteen. Soul leans over the counter to see her abysmally empty screen, expecting her to close the app but she keeps staring at it like she can will a Charizard into existence. Maka taps her foot, finally showing signs of impatience; there’s a couple items still on the conveyor belt, unscanned and unbagged.       

A minute passes, then two, before Maka grabs the items, and runs them across the scanner herself. Their cashier clearly sees her coming enough to casually scoot out of the way while Maka throws the items into a nylon daypack. She looks seconds away from saying something distinctly impolite so Soul jams his card into the machine so they can get the hell out of here.

Without taking her eyes from her phone screen, the cashier asks, “Debit or credit?” and pushes a button when Soul answers. He’s not about to wait for a receipt.

“You know, my mom always told me to be polite to anyone standing at a cash register but what the hell was that?” Maka blurts out as soon as they’ve hit the sidewalk. “I get people aren’t always going to be sunny on the job but she…”

“Has an enormous stick up her ass?” Soul fills in.

Maka nearly chokes laughing. “She’s not the one who hasn’t had a real shower in too long.”

“Maybe that’s _why_ her face looked like that.”  

Another burst of laughter, this one including snorts. A guy could get used to being the funniest one around. It does wonders for the ego, not to mention the warmth in his chest seeing Maka’s face crinkle in bizarre joy. “You’re no bouquet of roses yourself,” she says between gasps.

They walk back to the other edge of town, stopping in the gas station for slurpees before sitting on the curb so Soul can repack his new supplies more efficiently.

“Ready to ride back with our old buddy Sid?” Maka asks.

“I think I would rather walk,” Soul answers, leaving out a couple oranges to eat while they try to get a ride back to the trail.

Maka takes one of the oranges he was going to offer her anyway and starts digging her nails into the tough rinds. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you, I already checked with the people in the gas station and everyone just got into town for the afternoon. They said they wouldn’t count on anyone leaving until the morning.”

The sun is up so long these days it’s hard to believe it’s that late, but there’s still plenty of daylight hours left, they might as well wait, right?

A few more cars pull into the station but they’re all coming into town, not leaving. An hour passes, then two; they each eat another orange. The golden glow of sunset hangs onto the early evening. Even with a few hours of light left, their time is running out if they’re going to get back to the trail to camp by nightfall.

They both know what needs to be said but neither wants to say it.

Finally, Maka heaves a sigh and points out the obvious. “We should really start walking.”

Usually they’ve been averaging about twelve hours a day, and with getting a ride into town they’re nowhere near that quota. And yet, sitting on a curb for a couple hours has tired him out more than the last two weeks of grueling exercise he has in no way been in shape for. She’s right, though, it would be so tempting to find a hotel to stay in, have a bed to sleep in for once. But with their luck everything in town is probably booked up. They’re grubby forest people anyway, they should go be grubby in the forest.

Soul groans, straps on his pack, and heaves himself up to his feet. “What if we just camp off the road and do the rest in the morning.”

Maka’s poker face is pretty damn lousy. Her lips tighten, her eyes droop, disappointment reigns free across her features. “I was hoping not to have a setback, and we already aren’t going to get much trail distance today.”

“I know.” He’s the one who didn’t plan ahead enough for supply packages and dragged her off course; even if they get back to the trail they’ll still be behind. “I guess we should get some miles down.”

“Even if we only make it half way, it’s less ground we have to cover tomorrow.” There’s only so much they can do at this point anyway, either they hike until nightfall and have to set up camp in the dark, or they don’t make it all the way and have to make up the distance later.

Soul nods. “Might as well get started.”

They start their way down the gravel shoulder with exactly none of the same nervous excitement they’d had going into town. It’s later than he had first thought; it’s so damn confusing being in the mountains and having the sun suddenly disappear and leave the ground shrouded when the sky isn’t dark yet. Maka digs a headlamp out of her pack to light the uneven ground ahead of them and create a beacon on the off chance that any cars do pass by. The sky dims and dims, twilight slinking in and placing a few early stars. Mile markers on the highway offer no comfort in these dark times.

Maka forges ahead, though, and Soul has to keep up with her light if he doesn’t want to trip and take a spill onto gravel and concrete. What a miserable existence. Another light starts to come from behind, barely there at first so he could be imagining things. But sure enough, the whole roadway is getting brighter. Maybe the light of heaven is coming to take him home and put him out of his misery. He never heard of an angel’s chariot honking like a foghorn, though. A truck blares out from behind them, startling Soul off the shoulder and into the bushes. Maka turns around and squints at the approaching vehicle, quickly stepping off when she realizes that the truck is signaling to pull over. This isn’t how he wanted to die.

The truck grinds to a halt and the blinkers turn on. A figure jumps down from the driver’s seat, silhouetted by the high-beams. He’s tall, broad in the shoulder. If he wanted to murder them both right now he would have no problem at all. Soul prepares for the worst when he notices a familiar radio station playing from the cab.

“You kids walking back to the trail?” It’s Sid.

Soul never thought he would be so happy to see that man again. “Yeah, we couldn’t find a ride out in the afternoon.”

“It be like that.” Sid walks over to them, the headlights finally illuminating his face rather than casting him a sinister figure. “Tourists come into town through the day but only leave in the morning when they turn over the bed and breakfast rooms. You two thought anymore about that inn I told you about? Real sweet place -- it’s good to get indoors once in a while, have a nice hot shower.”

It’s hard to tell whether Sid is a spokesperson for the place or if he’s just hinting that the two of them smell like they’ve been living in the forest for a couple weeks. Soul had been thinking how nice it would be to stay in a hotel for the night, but he already knows Maka wants to be back on the trail as soon as possible.

“I think we’re just heading back to the trail,” Soul says, the light too harsh to read anything on his traveling companion’s face. Too many jagged shadows and the blinking yellow cast of the emergency flashers make her look almost inhuman.

“Well hop in then, it’s getting dark and you’ve got a ways to go on foot.”

They climb into the cab and Soul is almost tired enough to not focus on the line of contact between him and Maka that stretches from their knees to their shoulders. He closes the door, buckles the seatbelt, and leans against the window for the drive. It’s only a few miles, so even going ten miles under the speed limit they reach their destination in a fraction of the time it would’ve taken them to walk.

“I think the trailhead should be right around here,” Sid says, braking in the middle of the highway to let them out.

Maka is on the inside so she should be the one to unbuckle the seatbelt but she isn’t for some reason. The radio is still on at full blast and Soul is keen to get out and get camp set up. He considers saying something, almost leans over to release them, but Maka speaks first.

“How much further is it to that inn you were talking about?” she asks. “Just if we decide to walk down that way.”

“Oh, about another mile. I can drop you off there if you’d like--”

“Let’s do it,” Soul blurts, thanking his lucky stars that Maka was actually thinking the same thing he was. “I would love to sleep in a bed, assuming you were suggesting and not just asking…”

Maka nods, then tilts ever so slightly so the top of her head brushes his neck. Whether intentionally meant as some sort of acknowledgment or not, he nearly jumps out of his seat. Her hair is so fine, soft in the brief moment it touches his skin. Soul can’t even imagine how stubbly his chin is, he specifically avoids touching his face as much as possible so he can forget about it. He can only pray that she hadn’t felt it; he should shave while he has access to a sink and shower, not that it will last long, or that he has any actual reason to. _What the hell is he thinking?_

“Sure thing,” Sid’s voice jerks him out of his overthinking nightmare, it has to have only been a second but felt like a lifetime. Soul breathes. The truck rolls back into drive.

A lit building appears seemingly out of the woods a couple minutes later. Homey, with glowing incandescent lighting, it’s just what you would expect from a bed and breakfast. One single terrible thought races through Soul’s mind as they go into park again and unload their things, though. Their gracious, generous, wonderful trucker friend had been extolling this place for its romantic atmosphere.

What if… there is only one bed?

That would be a leap, Maka has only just started pitching her tent anywhere near his and still puts the rainfly on for privacy. She’ll probably run screaming into the night if that’s the case, but what if she doesn’t? He can’t even say he’s hoping one way or the other. Soul likes having his space when he sleeps -- really, he’s just curious how Maka would react.

She thanks Sid profusely for saving them for the second time that day. He nods, simply saying that’s just the kind of guy he is, before disappearing into the fading light.

“I guess now we hope they actually have a vacancy,” Maka says. “Otherwise we’re back to hiking back to the trail.

“No big deal either way.” Soul shrugs, keeping his voice as flat and neutral as possible.

They walk in and a blonde woman with a gauze patch over one eye smiles as they approach the front desk. “Room for two?” she asks.

“If you have one available,” Maka answers.

Soul tries not to look too closely at the host’s bandaged face, doesn’t want to be rude. The woman’s one good eye locks onto him, though, and before he can make an excuse she simply says, “Bobcat.”

“Excuse me?” Soul chokes.

“Was in after the foals, gave him a whack with a shovel but he nicked my eye.” She smiles, gaze shifting over their backpacks and disheveled appearance. “You should be happy to sleep inside tonight -- we have one room left available, though it is reserved tomorrow so you will have to check out at noon or move to another room that should be vacant after another group checks out. Hopefully that’s no problem?”

“None at all,” Maka answers. “We’ll be out early.”

“Wonderful, breakfast is included with the room, I’ll just need a credit card number.”

Maka continues with paying for the reservation and Soul starts a mental list of how he can pay her back for his half of the room. The dread of having to walk the mile back to the trailhead fades from his mind so now his singular focus is on how many beds there will be. He tunes out everything else until Maka nudges him with her pack.

“Let’s go, we’re upstairs.”

He follows her up, preparing to come to terms with whatever will lie behind their door and how to handle each outcome. Should he offer to sleep on the floor? That would be the noble thing to do.

Maka opens the door to their room. Soul holds his breath. They step inside and see two nicely made single beds. Now he doesn’t know what to feel. Relief? Disappointment? He’s empty inside.

“The host, Marie, said there’s a shared bathroom down the hall so I’m going to shower first if you don’t mind.” Maka takes a towel from one of the beds and starts digging through her pack for toiletries.

“Huh? Sure,” he answers. There’s an alarm clock on the bedside table that reads eight o'clock, much earlier than it felt. They had never really had dinner sitting at the gas station, and his stomach is starting to complain.

“Then maybe you can buy me dinner.” _What._ “For your half of the room, well maybe not half but a start. You might need to buy me two dinners, maybe three.”

Well, that doesn’t sound like such a bad deal, there’s no way she would ask him to buy her dinner otherwise. He really needs to get a grip on himself. They shared a couple oranges and a passenger seat, doesn’t mean he should start planning dates. He sits on the single chair in the room, not wanting to get the bed dirty. Usually he’s a morning shower kind of guy but he can’t in good conscience get into a proper bed like this in his current state. Maybe there’s another bathroom downstairs he can use so he doesn’t keep Maka waiting for dinner.

Hot water feels amazing. After lukewarm to freezing rinses in the river and washing his hair in a pot, he’ll never take a shower for granted again. The courtesy shampoo is citrus scented and there’s even disposable razors under the sink, and lotion! Soul feels thoroughly pampered when he steps out of the bathroom, like he could actually be out in society. Just in time to get back on the trail tomorrow morning.

He puts on the cleanest clothes he has and makes his way back upstairs. It seems appropriate to knock on the door before going back into his and Maka’s room.

“Come in.” She’s wearing a plain t-shirt and leggings, but her hair is up in a towel and something about that strikes him as a rather intimate way to view her. “You have a good shower?”

Soul feels his newly shaved face. “Yeah, I’m glad we came here.” His stomach whines loudly, always one to ruin the mood. “You still want dinner?”

“Absolutely.” Maka takes her hair down, the residual water dampening her shoulders and sending a shiver down her spine.

“You need a sweatshirt?” Soul asks, avoiding eye contact while he puts his hiking boots back on.

“If you have one on hand? The weather has been so good my warm clothes have stayed shoved in the bottom of my pack.”

There is a flannel he was planning on sleeping in; he tosses it to her. Maka slips her arms into the sleeves, which hang past the tips of her fingers. Of course it would be big on her but Soul wasn’t expecting it to be so comical. “Here, let me help.”  

She fixes him with her eyes, offering a hand like a princess awaiting a formal kiss on her rings. Nothing is funny anymore. Delicately rolling up the sleeves, Soul tries not to touch her directly but his pinky still brushes one slender wrist. Something electric passes between them and he pulls his hands back before he catches on fire. Maka holds his gaze steady while she rolls up the other sleeve herself.

“Ready?” she says. It feels like an hour of silence has passed, another one of those infinite moments. He really needs to get some sleep, clear his head. There’s two beds, after all, nothing to get worked up about.

They don’t talk much while they eat dinner. Maka reads before bed and Soul wonders what kind of person brings a book along as dead weight on a backpacking trip. It’s hardly past nine when they turn the lights off. The day seemed longer than usual. Soul is dead tired, and yet can’t sleep.

* * *

Falling back into their natural rhythm happens naturally. They walk, they cook, they stay as clean as they can. Hiking along a creek helps, though Maka is a stickler for carrying the water off into the forest.

“Even with biodegradable soap, can you imagine trying to drink water someone else had been washing clothes in?” She shakes her head. “Haven’t you heard of ‘leave no trace’?”

Sure he has, it’s not like he’s been leaving plastic wrap all over the national forest system. What’s the point in biodegradable soap though, if you can’t just rinse it in the stream?

It’s like Maka reads his mind, shaking her head while she wrings out a shirt. “Biodegradable stuff still needs time to break down, so better it goes into the dirt so it’s out of the system by the time it hits the water table.”

Now she’s just making stuff up. Still, Soul can’t say he’s an expert on _anything_ camping related, so he’ll listen to what she says, he’ll just complain while doing it.

They’re somewhere off Badger Mountain when an earlier misplaced assumption rears its ugly head. Of all the things he was afraid of before starting this trip, he wasn’t prepared for the reality.

“I think I’m out of fuel,” Maka says, twisting the knob on her stove hopefully, as if it’s going to eek out a little more propane. “Since we’ve been using mine for cooking. How’s your supply?”

_Shit._ “Uhh, you know they didn’t have the right kind of canisters at that grocery back in Chester. I thought you got more.”

“I just got one since I’m getting more soon.” She continues turning the knob, desperate for a flame. “My friend is sending a package with some to Old Station but we won’t get there for a few more days. Shit. _SHIT!”_ Shaking the stove doesn’t help any but she sure does try.

There’s some things they can eat without cooking, maybe they can make it. It’ll just suck. A lot. “Can we make a fire? There’s no burn ban right now is there?”

“No…” Maka sighs. “There’s no burn ban, I just can’t believe this, you should’ve told me to get a second canister.”

Soul _had_ been operating on the wishful thinking that she would put two and two together and realize he was out. But he’s the one who didn’t think ahead, and he’s the one who wasn’t specific. They’re backpacking, of course she would get the minimum supplies required, every pound makes a difference.

“I’ll start looking for firewood.” The least he can do is take responsibility, and with the disappointed look on Maka’s face he doesn’t exactly want to stick around continuing this conversation.

He stands but Maka rises with him. “I’ll come too,” she says.

So now he can’t even be trusted with a simple task? “It’s fine, I’m the one who didn’t think to plan mail ahead packages. You stay here.”

“But it’ll be faster with two people--”

“Stay,” he cuts her off. At this point it doesn’t matter if she genuinely just wants to help, he needs time alone with his embarrassment.

Thankfully she sits back down, speaking quietly, “Guess I’ll start setting up camp, then.”

Soul doesn’t reply when he stands up, just walks quietly into the woods. It hasn’t rained since he started the trip, so the dry wood is easy to find. Not so dry to worry about lighting up the trees just by thinking about it, it’s early enough in the season the greenery is still lush. They must have some criteria for deciding burn bans anyway, and whatever Smokey the Bear says is the law they’ll live by. He spends a while collecting sticks for kindling, it’s a little harder to find thicker pieces that will make a reasonable coal bed for cooking. Maybe he can go down the slope a little, scope out what the stream looks like.

The creek has carved out a steeper ravine than Soul would have guessed, but there’s a fallen tree in the bottom that he could surely snap a couple bigger branches off. With one arm wrapped around his bundle of sticks, that leaves one hand free to steady himself on the climb down. It’s only six feet or so, what could go wrong?

Carefully, carefully, he walks down, keeping his center of gravity low to keep from slipping down into the creek. It’s really not that bad, after a couple of weeks of hiking he’s pretty sure on his feet -- a little tough terrain won’t get the best of him. Then, his stomach drops with the panic of momentary weightlessness before gravity collects its due. A rock had come loose from under his foot, sending it careening down the hill. Soul does his best to regain balance, and does to a _degree_. He slides the rest of the way down instead of tumbling head over heels. It’s hard to be thankful when his left foot jams down at a weird angle, twisting painfully. To add insult to injury, his beautiful dry sticks go tumbling into the water.

What’s he going to tell Maka now, assuming he can even get back to their campsite? He tests movement: tender but manageable. Next is putting weight on it. Standing is fine, but as soon as he picks up his right foot to climb back out, his left crumples under the pressure. Not so manageable. It’s not broken, so maybe in a couple minutes he’ll be able to walk it off, maybe go for flat ground before trying the slope. If not… he could be stuck down here for a while. He tries in vain to pull himself up with just his arms but he just doesn’t have the muscles for it. Black Star’s voice taunts him in the back of his mind, _‘More time benching, less time frenching.’_ As if too much action was the problem.

The thought of being trapped and waiting who knows how long to be found spikes his heart rate. He should’ve told Wes to fuck off with his grand speeches on how empowering a backpacking trip would be. Soul breathes. Counts. Exhales. Having a panic attack is not going to do him any good. Maka is up there, not that far away, he can call for help. Before he opens his mouth, though, a voice rings out.

“Soul!” Maka calls. “You don’t need to collect the whole forest. Where are you?”

“I’m down here,” he yells back, resigned to losing whatever cool points he was still holding onto.

She appears on the upper bank, looking down with some combination of confusion and concern, and he can’t tell in what ratio. “How did you get down there?”

“Was coming down for wood but just slipped the last couple feet.”  

Concern edges further into her voice, “And you’re hurt?”

“Not bad, just rolled my ankle, just not sure I can get back up on my own. You have rope or something?”  

Maka’s fists go to her hips. “I can reach you from here, it’s just the one foot, right?”

The woman can’t be taller than five three, and while she’s wiry, she’s also skinny. He doesn’t want to hurt her pride insulting her strength, but there’s no way someone her size can get him out of this creek bed. “Just tie a rope on a tree, I can pull myself up with my arms and balance on the good foot.”

She crouches, eyes narrowed and lips tight. Biceps twitching. “Just put your hands up.”

Soul should’ve known she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Resigned, he stretches his hands up to hers while she digs in her heels and leans down to lock onto his wrists. It’s an awkward angle; there’s no overhang or ledge to protect him from getting dragged through the dirt and rocks. He’ll just have to trade being a little dirty and bruised for being stuck in a creek for the rest of his life, assuming Maka can even get him off the ground.

“Ready?” she says.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her brow furrows and she pulls. Soul can just feel his feet coming off the ground and he already knows this is a terrible idea. Maka is going to throw out her back like this and then they’ll both be injured and useless. At least with no weight on his left foot he can put his right a little higher on the slope, push off and give her a little help.

The way her thighs are bulging she might not even need it. Here he was worried about her straining her back while she’s using her muscular legs to push herself back. She falters for a moment when he reaches a point where he’s dangling again and she has to hold his full weight until he hastily digs his foot back in at a higher point. His shoulders are burning but he can finally get an elbow onto flat ground and start to leverage himself up. One more good foothold, and with their combined strength he lunges over the edge, toppling into Maka and knocking her flat.

Soul is so relieved to be back on relatively flat ground it takes him a second to realize he’s lying on top of Maka until she coughs.

“Told you I could do it.” She grins and pushes his shoulder until he rolls off to the side. “We still have to get back to the tents, though.”

He gingerly gets to his feet, still leaning heavily on his right foot. “I never should’ve doubted you.”

“You can’t walk at all, can you?” It’s only a question for courtesy.

“I can crawl?” They’re not that far off -- he can make it back if he has to. And, he really does have to.   

Maka does unimpressed well. She turns her back on him with a sigh. “Come on then,” she says, standing there expectantly.

“Uh… I can’t...” Soul thought they had already established he was not going to be walking back to the campsite.  

“No, you idiot, get on my back. I don’t think I need to _crouch_ for you to get on considering you’re a total bean pole.”

Getting a piggyback ride would certainly be a more comfortable option _physically,_ but he’s not sure his ego can take one more hit. Not that dragging himself on the ground like a lizard would be particularly dignified. “You’re the beanpole,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around Maka’s shoulders.

“Come on, twiggy.” His feet are fully planted even with her standing at her tallest, so she has to pick his legs up, effectively draping him over her back like a sack of potatoes.

The tents appear from behind the trees, they were only ever a hundred yards or so away. He’s going to be screwed if he can’t walk tomorrow, though. They could maybe stay an extra day but they need to restock on food too, not to mention the fuel problem. And what a stupid way to get injured! Maka might help him now out of pity but she’ll probably want to split up, find someone more dependable to hike with.

“Let’s get that ankle checked out,” she murmurs, setting him down gently, right foot first.

Soul sits down on the ground while Maka starts rummaging through her pack for a first aid kit. His ankle is starting to throb and he’s keen to get his boot off and check out the damage. A little swollen, a little bruised, but not the worst it could be.

“I think this is an appropriate time to bust out the instant ice pack,” Maka says, “And I have a compression bandage and a foam ankle support for just this situation.”

She’s so freaking prepared. Sure, there have been oversights like not checking the water, but as far as having efficient supplies, Maka has him beat by a mile and it’s making him feel crappier by the second. Soul doesn’t respond.  

“Can I take a look?” she asks, supplies in hand.

“I can do it myself,” he grumbles, a little more snappish than intended. Quick, he has to recover with a joke before she thinks he’s a total asshole and not just an idiot with wounded pride. “Wouldn’t want you too close to my feet, you might smell them and pass out.”

There’s the hint of a smile he’s started finding himself trying to eke out of her more and more. “I guess we still don’t have firewood.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just get some now while you deal with… that.” She gestures to his swollen foot which seems to be expanding now that it’s free from the confines of a hiking boot.

Maka tromps off into the trees, cracking every twig along the way like some sort of clumsy herd animal. Now it’s just him, his stupid weak ankle, and his shame.  

Whatever miracle of chemistry is going on inside the instant ice-pack, it does wonders for Soul’s ankle. He straps it against his foot with the bandage and puts some experimental pressure on it. Not great.

“Quit that.” Maka appears back out of the trees with an armload of sticks, dumping them back on the ground with a glare he would expect from a teacher, or his mother. “You should really leave it alone and elevate it if you want it to heal quickly.”

“Are you a doctor?” It comes out sharper than intended and he really ought to keep his mouth shut at this point before Maka lights him on fire.

She squints, fists planted firmly on her hips. “I’ve had enough sports injuries to know how to handle a sprain, which I can help you with. Your wounded pride, on the other hand, is your problem.”

There’s no way he can look her in the face. “You’re right.” Soul sits down and props his foot up on his backpack.

“And you should keep the cold on the outside of your sock, not right on your skin”

“Okay.”

“I’ll get a fire going and figure out what we can eat.”

“Alright.” Shades of childhood low self-esteem and teenage incompetence come bubbling up and it’s an ugly sort of feeling.

He’s thankful Maka seems to know when not to push it, and she goes about building a fire as the sun starts to set. The sticks burn quickly and she has to make a few trips for extra wood but they have a reasonable supply by the time it gets truly dark. Usually they would just go to sleep once true nighttime hits; there’s only so much you can do by headlamp. There’s not that many hours of darkness anyway, this time of year. Tonight they still have dinner to contend with, made slower both by not having a conventional stove and by Soul not being able to do a thing to help.

Maka tries holding a pan directly over the flame, but the handle isn’t long enough to get even heating without getting nipped by a few sparks. “I think we need to let the coals die down.”

“Mhm.” Soul simply agrees because he doesn’t have anything to contribute. Maka has already thought of everything and dealt with everything.

“Sorry this is taking so long,” she says, poking the fire with a stick and shoving into the dirt when it catches.

“Without you I would still be in the creek bed eating algae until my foot got eaten by foxes.” The pain in his foot has dulled to a pulsing ache and the cold has faded from the ice-pack. He tucks it into his trash bag and wraps the compression bandage around his ankle.

Maka pauses. “I guess that’s the scary thing about being this far out. When I started it was like, the highway wasn’t _that_ far off, but now thinking we’re a few days out from anything, out of fuel...”

“I never wanted to go on this trip in the first place.” It hurts to admit. Wes had gotten him so hyped up and he had always looked up to him. How could he say no when his brother started lamenting on the missed opportunities of his youth, and what he could learn by spending some time alone in the wilderness.

“Why did you go, then? I mean… I’m not sure I want to be here _now_ but at least I liked the idea of a long backpacking trip,” Maka says.

The firelight is starting to dwindle, and the darkness catches up to them. “I never really did much by myself, even though I went to college far from my parents, my brother was closer by to dig me out of any trouble. And I always wanted the opportunity to strike out on my own, or whatever, and my brother, Wes, convinced me this was the way to do it.”

“I get that,” she murmurs, “I’ve always been trying to get away from my family too, at least part of my family.”

“I was trying to prove something to myself, I guess, especially since I’m moving to a new place. But I was scared from the beginning, of something like this happening when I was alone.”  

“Is that why you wanted to hike with someone else? When we kept bumping into each other?”

It doesn’t sound accusatory exactly, but Soul doesn’t know how to answer. “I don’t think that was entirely it -- I came across a few other groups and didn’t ever think to join up with them. Maybe because they already had other people, but I guess... with you I figured you could be feeling at least some of the same things as me, being alone.”

“I was.” The admission comes as a relief. “I was scared of you, in the beginning, scared I wouldn’t be prepared enough or would end up forgetting something important. But I guess we see now you can never be ready for everything.”   

“You were pretty ready to deal with this.” He gestures down his leg though he doesn’t know if it comes across in the starlight filtering down. “Here I’m supposed to be exercising independence and you had to save me.”

“I can assure you I had entirely selfish motivation.” _What a load of bullshit._ “If you died I would be under suspicion for being the last one you were with, or… something like that.” She has to know she’s talking through her ass.

Even if their situation is still a little precarious not knowing if he’ll be able to walk tomorrow, Soul can’t help but laugh a little. “Sure, sure, Maka the murderer. I don’t think you would kill a fly.”

“I’ve taken years of martial arts, I will have you know.”

With her leg strength he has no doubt about it. He’s gotten more in shape with all the hiking but not in her league. “I’ll try to stay on your good side.”

“You better, where are you moving, anyway?” she asks.

“Up around the Portland area, got a decent offer for a tech job, the music scene is good, and our good friend Black Star is around. I definitely won’t be living with him again, though,” Soul adds hastily.

Maka goes quiet and distant again, retreating back behind the walls she was starting to open a gate through. “Ah, well, we should get some sleep.”

She douses and stamps out the last bits of fire and slips into her tent, leaving him with no idea what he said and all the time in the world to overthink it. The conversation goes on replay: he had been opening up, more than he has with just about everyone he knows, and she had been meeting him in the middle. He admires her, and tonight she became a little more real and it made him admire her more. And yet the feeling doesn’t seem to be mutual.


	3. Burney Falls and Shasta Trinity Forest

Knowing Soul is moving to the same area as her is an uncomfortable synchronicity. Maka doesn’t believe in fate, there’s only nigh unbelievable coincidence. And this is pretty unbelievable. She’s always functioned by compartmentalizing her life. When her parents got divorced she refused to act as a middleman and kept her life at each house entirely independent. She barely brought clothes from one house to the other lest one parent comment on what the other parent had bought for her. 

Soul is great, funny, loyal, a little moody, with expressive eyes and a sharp jawline. Just fine. Dandy. Having someone to hike with and share backpacking chores with has made the trip a lot more pleasant, but what if he’s totally different back in the real world? And worse, what if he doesn’t like who she is once she transitions from the backpacking bubble to city living again? 

They spend an extra day to let Soul’s ankle heal, then take a shorter route to Old Station, stopping in for a precious fuel resupply. Once they hit a forest road, they follow it out to the highway and hitchhike up Route 44, cutting their distance in half compared to the rambling way the trail went. 

Lake Britton brings with it day hikers and tourists, out for a scenic snapshot of the Pacific Crest Trail without making the commitment to live on it for weeks. Maka feels self conscious with her dusty backpack and scuffed up hiking boots.  _ Did _ any  _ of her gear ever look that nice?  _

They camp near the lake for the amenities of faucets with potable water and dishwashing stations. Maka pays a dollar for a frigid and drippy shower but it’s better than hauling river water and sneaking into the woods for a little privacy. It’s weird, camping so close to other people after so much time by themselves. The lights of campfires dot the path around the whole campsite, bringing more light than she’s grown accustomed to. 

Ignoring the unusual noises of human activity, she lights up the campstove while Soul puts the tents up. His height puts him at an advantage for wrestling with the poles; it’s a division of labor they both can agree on. 

“Hey, hey, name’s Hiro, nice to meet you.” An interloper approaches and shoves a hand in Maka’s face, presumably to shake. “You don’t happen to have any extra butter, do you? We’re trying to make pancakes and totally spaced.” 

Maka’s confused how anyone would make pancakes while camping until she looks around and remembers: most of the people here are car camping. What a foreign concept to have near infinite storage for coolers and drinks and not having to carry any of it. “Uh, we’re through hiking so we have… oats, jerky, and dried apricots,” she answers. There’s probably a few other things in her pack but she’s trying to prove a point damnit. 

“Cool, cool.” The guy twiddles with one of several earrings. He’s not even dressed for camping, wearing a choker and white button down with only half the buttons done. “That’s such a tiny stove, how do you even cook on that thing?” 

“With the flame?” Soul says, standing up from finishing the tents and investigating the newcomer. Maka prays having a deceivingly scary looking guy with her will get the guy to lay off before she has to come to blows but she’s not counting on it. 

“And you put a pan on these dinky little things?” Hiro starts to reach for the stove.

“Careful, that’s--” Soul tries to stop him but it’s too late. Hiro grabs onto what is effectively the burner of the stove used to heat the pan more evenly, somehow hooks a finger around it in his effort to drop it like a hot potato and ends up flinging it into the air. The stove flies in a slow motion arc, like some bizarre fire dance performance. 

Maka is rooted to the spot, unable to react until the stove lands on its side and promptly catches her tent on fire. She leaps past Hiro, shoving him out of the way to get to her tent as quickly as possible and he goes down like a bowling pin. 

“Whoa lady, harsh.” Maka doesn’t even hear him, she’s too busy stomping out the small fire while Soul quickly moves the stove to a safe and upright position. 

“You lit my frickin’ tent on fire!” she snaps, ready to kill him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it would be hot, you should’ve warned me!” 

“It’s a stove, what did you expect? And we  _ did  _ warn you, or Soul tried to, so maybe you shouldn’t try to touch other people's stuff!” Angry tears well up and she refuses to cry in front of this imbecile she doesn’t even know. She shouldn’t freak out until she can assess the damage anyway. “Just go already.” 

Their unwelcome guest doesn’t need to hear it twice; he scrambles back to his campsite before Maka even looks up. 

Soul hands her a headlamp. “You check your tent, I’ll get the food started.” 

At first it doesn’t look like anything happened at all, until Maka realizes she was examining the wrong spot. The tent had been labeled as flame retardant, and she supposes it could’ve been much worse, but there’s still a charred hole the size of her head at the bottom of one side. Structurally it’s okay, but it’s not going to be very effective at keeping bugs out, or water if it rains. The rainfly should keep rain from coming in directly but it could leak in from the sides. 

She breathes; it’s not as bad as it could be. “I think it will be okay. You don’t have a patch kit, do you?”  

“I do actually, came with my tent, but I think that’s more for tears -- I don’t know how big the patches are.” Soul hands her a bag and Maka tears it open eagerly, hope rising… 

The biggest patch is only half the size of the hole. She could try to tape a few together, but she doubts it would be watertight or keep the bugs at bay. Hope is destroyed. 

“What’s the damage?” Soul asks, leaning over her shoulder with a tin plate of food. “Oof, you have warranty I hope.” 

“Yeah, REI has the most insane return policy, but that doesn’t help me now.” Maka groans. “I can’t believe the kind of idiots out here, now I understand why they start burn bans.”

“You could probably ship it back and have them send you the replacement somewhere down the line,” Soul says. 

Fat load of good that will do her. “And where am I going to sleep in the meantime? Your tent?” 

She had meant it sarcastically so her eyebrows shoot past her hairline when he shrugs and says, “Sure, it’s a two-person anyway.” 

“Ahh, it’s really fine, the mosquitoes aren’t bad here and it’ll keep the dew off.”  _ She hopes. _

Soul is never pushy, and doesn’t insist. He just hands her food and packs up the stove before some other imbecile can misuse it and light the whole forest on fire. 

The tent isn’t  _ that _ bad. Maka just feels exposed somehow even though the hole is near the ground and facing into the woods. They’re not even halfway through the hike too; maybe the next time she gets cell service she’ll ask Tsubaki to send her a patch kit with bigger patches.

* * *

 

She makes it work for a couple days, until she wakes up with a giant mosquito bite on her cheek. She sleeps with her head covered, but wakes up with sweaty hair. Soul won’t suggest sharing a tent again; it’s too intimate an idea and he wouldn’t want to come off as having ill intentions. Which, Maka is confident he has zero ill intentions. He’s trustworthy like that. Surely he would still agree if she brought it up, but her pride gets in the way of her asking. And here last week she was lecturing him on getting hung up about his ankle. She acknowledges her double standard around asking for help, then continues to be unrelentingly stubborn about it. 

“Looks like it might rain tonight,” Soul says, shielding his face towards the darkening sky. 

It’s a hint. It’s a goddamn hint to take up his offer on the tent sharing. But she won’t break down yet, she still has a rainfly to depend on. “Maybe.” 

More than maybe. It can’t be far into the afternoon but heavy clouds block the sun and threaten to dump the Pacific Ocean on them. It seems unfair, spiteful even, to have three weeks of sun. And now, when her tent is only semi-functional, thunder rumbles low in the distance. 

“We should find a high spot for the campsites, don’t want to wake up on a waterbed,” Soul says, even though it will surely be more important for her to find a well-planned spot. 

Maka sets her tent up under a tree, with the tent perpendicular to the uphill slope so theoretically she shouldn’t get water coming into the tent. She thinks. Next is the rainfly, which she skews towards the bad side  _ just in case. _ The first heavy drops of rain start to fall, first blocked by her faithful tree, then released in spatters on her face as she looks up at the sky. She finished that tent not a moment too soon. 

“You good over there?” Soul calls.

“Yeah, all set.” 

It’s not ideal -- being in the mountains, they couldn’t find a good high point without climbing significantly on or off the trail, but it’ll just have to do. Maka retreats into her tent, pulling her backpack in after her and zipping the rainfly from the inside. What she didn’t account for, however, was how paranoid she would be about the tent leaking, even before it starts leaking for real. She’s so focused on the top of the tent, which is well protected anyway, it takes her a while to notice the water pooling up by her feet, dampening her sleeping bag. Well, that’s not a big deal, she’ll just rotate so she’s lying sideways on the hill. But as soon as she starts to drift off and rolls over, she rolls directly down into the growing pool. She should’ve faced the hole  _ down _ the slope, not to the side; then it would be draining water and not collecting it. 

Well. There’s a choice to make now. She could ignore it and sleep anyways, getting her clothes and probably all of her gear wet in the process. Or she could get out and rotate her tent ninety degrees in the dark and the downpour, including pulling  _ all _ the stakes out and hammering them in again to keep it secure. Neither are particularly pleasant options. Then there’s Soul’s tent, dry and inviting. But to concede that she messed up? 

“This is so stupid,” Maka mutters. Soul’s tent is only a few feet away, and he offered to share it while she got hers sorted out. 

She digs her raincoat out of her pack, puts it on and tries to stuff her sleeping bag inside it as well as she can. Her backpack will just have to stay in the uppermost corner and hopefully stay put. With a deep breath, Maka unzips her tent and braves the storm. 

Even in the short distance from her tent to Soul’s, the rain soaks her legs and starts to drip into her boots. She ducks under the rainfly which forms a sort of vestibule, and sighs.

“Soul?” No response. “Are you awake?” 

He probably can’t hear her over the din of the rain. Not wanting to disturb his privacy (who knows what state he sleeps in) she tries again until she’s rewarded with a confused grumble.

“Soul, my tent is leaking.” 

He opens the tent from the inside and even though he’s wearing a shirt, Maka’s stomach gives a little flutter. Maybe this was a mistake, she doesn’t want him to think she’s  _ trying  _ to sleep with him. Soul squints. “Turn off your light, woman.” 

“Oh.” Maka pushes the button once, plunging them into pitch blackness, pushes it again to turn on the red light. 

“That’s better.” He finishes unzipping the tent and starts dragging her sleeping bag out from under her jacket. “Figured this would happen.”

Red light glows and illuminates the inside of the tent as she sticks her head inside, unsure how this arrangement is going to work. Soul must already have an idea, though. He’s spread her sleeping bag on the far side and is crouched at the upper end to allow her space to crawl past. Her head nearly brushes the mesh ceiling as she lunges forward, trying to kick her boots off her feet in the semi-dry space left by the rainfly. Only one comes loose and now she’s flopped out on her stomach with her light against the wall being entirely unilluminating. A warm hand on her ankle makes her gasp.

“You were trying to take these off, right?” Soul tugs on the laces of her other boot and starts gently tugging it off her foot, calloused fingers brushing just above her sock and sending goosebumps up her leg. 

“Um yeah, thanks.” She hastily pulls her legs in after her and crawls onto her own side to allow space for Soul to stretch his legs back out. 

Facing him, she gets a good look at him for the first time. The shadows on his face are strange, almost foreign, cast in crimson. His usually burgundy eyes have deepened to a shade of wine, and something about the way the light falls on his collarbones feels like Maka is seeing something she shouldn’t. 

“Light?” Soul’s low voice jolts her back to reality and she quickly clicks the button on her headlamp before he notices her staring at him.

Maka inches as far to her side as she can and snakes her feet into sleeping bag. It’s hard trying to move at all while being so aware of there being another person next to her. “Sorry to barge in like this.” 

“‘S no problem,” Soul mumbles, turning his back to her. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded.” 

The rain falls like a hail of bullets from a machine gun, but Maka’s own breathing is deafening in her ears. She prays Soul doesn’t hear it, or that she doesn’t accidentally bump into him in the night. There’s no way she’s sleeping, but it’s better than being soaked, right? He hasn’t shuffled around in a while so hopefully he’s down at least. She thinks about his offer to let her into his tent and wonders if she would’ve done the same. For Soul… she likes to think so. Only because she trusts him, but she wouldn’t have been too happy about giving up personal space. 

Does his offer have some other meaning, though?

Does she  _ want _ it to? 

Damnit.  _ Damnit. _ Usually when she’s attracted to people she can rationally poke holes in their personality until the appeal is an empty shell. Soul has his flaws, certainly, but none of the deal breakers she so often runs into with guys their age. He’s respectful, not flakey… She can only make guesses about his love life but she’s going to assume he’s not a player based on the fact that he hasn’t even joked about making a move on her. She stares at the ceiling and contemplates running screaming into the night. Maybe he is a player, he just hasn’t shown the slightest interest in being anything other than friends with  _ her. _ And she doesn’t have a single clue how to go about any such thing herself, or if she would even want anything like that anyway. Relationships are pretty much guaranteed to fail, so she’s never let herself get invested. If she makes things awkward she’ll lose out on her hiking companion, probably get eaten by a bear, and have no one to tell the rangers where to find the remains. 

Undecided, unresolved, Maka looks up into the darkness. 

_ He’s an attractive guy, it’s okay to be attracted to him and not do anything about it.  _

She scoots down in her sleeping bag but her feet meet resistance. At first she’s worried she’s kicked Soul. He’ll wake up, read her mind, and be thoroughly disgusted. But no, it seems to be Soul’s backpack. Huh. She doesn’t remember him moving that around in the shuffle to fit in. It must’ve been tucked away down there from the beginning.

* * *

 

The weather turns clear again and Maka sleeps in her own tent for three nights. As much as she can deny it and act like everything is normal, she’s quickly becoming hyper aware of everything Soul does. 

“Can you grab my water out of my pack?” He stops in front of her on the trail and she nearly crashes into him. 

“Yeah, outside pocket?” She knows already, and doesn’t wait for an answer before reaching in.

“Easy on the zipper.” Soul jolts forward when she yanks down a little too hard. “I think you’re trying to take it right off.” 

Like a deer staring down an eighteen wheeler, Maka can’t move.  _ Did he just…? _ “Huh?” 

“Water?” 

She quickly pulls the canteen out and walks past, leaving the pocket still open. Here she’s looking like an idiot and he has the audacity to act like that wasn’t an innuendo. Then, she turns around at just the wrong time to watch Soul splash a handful of water over his face like he thinks he’s in a goddamn Pantene commercial. Maka whips back around before he catches the fuschia that must be spreading down her neck. 

“Want any?” he asks. 

_ Be normal be normal be normal.  _ “Sure.” She takes the bottle from him without making eye contact. Her mouth is full of cotton so a little water should help. 

“Are you getting sunburned?” A finger sweeps down her neck and all of the water sprays from her mouth. 

“Nope. ‘M fine,” Maka coughs. “Here, I’m not thirsty.”  _ Oh but she is, shamefully so.  _ She returns the bottle, probably getting pinker by the second. Why did she have to be like this? Zero to sixty in the blink of an eye after stalling for weeks.

Soul’s eyebrows crinkle into a frown. “Are you sure? You look really hot.” 

If she had almost caught her breath, she promptly loses it again, gasping, “Excuse me?” 

Now he’s the one who’s turning red. “Like, temperature. Not--I mean, not that you’re  _ not _ , uhhh, attractive or something but I wouldn’t--”

Well that’s a pretty clear message, time to cool it and quit reading into every tiny detail. “It’s all good, misunderstanding, totally get it.”

No response, better to just keep moving, burn off the adrenaline and embarrassment. Maka tries to put all her focus on the trail and the trees, but the same conversation keeps replaying in her brain on repeat. Soul probably just didn’t want to insult her but still make it clear that he didn’t think of her that way. Or he was trying to be keep himself in a safe position after she had reacted a little harshly. No matter how much she regrets her responses, there’s no way to redo the conversation, and now things are weird. She’s unintentionally done exactly what she was afraid of, and went and made a mess of things. 

It helps, but it’s little consolation in the moment when she feels like a fool. 

“We should be coming up on Castella tomorrow, I think.” Soul’s voice comes from behind her, always so good at grounding her wayward thoughts onto what they actually need to focus on.

“Is there anything we need? That we can get there, that is? I didn’t think it was a major stop.” They can always talk about the trip and planning supply stops. That’s safe. 

Soul rolls his shoulders in what could be a shrug or a stretch. “There might be a post office there.” 

“Might be? If you’re getting a package, shouldn’t you know where it’s gonna be?” 

“I meant if you wanted to ship your tent in for a replacement; I bet you could have them send the new one far enough down the line to not miss it.” He pauses to scan the map. “Like Ashland? Then you would have it for the last few weeks.” 

There wouldn’t be that much difference between sleeping on the ground and sleeping in a tent with a giant hole in it. Something about the idea of shelter is still comforting, though, even if it’s not all that effective. 

“Where am I supposed to sleep in the meantime?” Maka asks 

There’s another of those confusing non-committal shrugs that can’t even distinguish itself as a gesture. “I don’t mind sharing. You’re small anyway, don’t take up too much space.” 

Signals are running so hot and cold between his declaration about her not being attractive  _ like that _ and then inviting her into his tent again. And they were in close quarters the night they did share; a two-person tent doesn’t really seem intended to fit two people unless they’re both under five feet. Could be a purely friendly gesture, or not, but there’s only one way to find out. 

“Maybe you’re just trying to get me to sleep with you.” It comes out before she has time to weigh the actual consequences against the immediate desire to know what’s going on. 

Soul’s eyes bore into her like he can see every shameful thought going through her head. “That could be it.” 

She’s back right where they started knowing absolutely nothing. Is it sarcasm or is she just really, really bad at this? Only time will tell, because the longer this back and forth goes on, the more desperate she is to get a clear understanding of what goes on in that boy’s brain.

They camp. They walk. They pass Castella. Maka does not ship her tent back. When they set up camp, she lies down by herself and mulls over her options. Her dating experience is basically zero thanks to her family history and refusal to settle onher high expectations. She never felt the need to be in a relationship in college, never met anyone she liked enough and didn’t feel like dating for the sake of dating. Now that she’s graduated, she feels like she’s fallen behind the curve while her friends are starting to get married. Of course, she’s not going to  _ date _ Soul; even if they do stay in touch once the trip is over, they’ll undoubtedly drift apart naturally.  

It could hurt him, though, which she would never want. If she’s going to do anything, she needs to be upfront about the intentions, assuming she ever figures out where he stands. They get along well. Soul is generally respectful and not gross for a dude. What could there be to lose? It’s not like she has to tell Blaine if she happens to hook up with his college roommate, and she’s sure Soul would agree.

An easy day of downhill walking later and Soul is giving her nothing. Not that he isn’t talking, it’s just all very safe subject matter. Nothing to misread. If something doesn’t give soon, Maka is going to have to take drastic measures. 

With the easy walking, they get a couple extra miles down before it hits time to set up camp. Having daylight left means time to take care of daily chores that become monumental tasks when living out of a backpack. 

Maka pulls her map out to look for nearby water sources. “It looks like there’s a pretty cool lake system just… a little further and a thousand feet off main trail?” She turns the paper around to make sure she’s reading the topography correctly. 

“You want to check it out and camp down there?” 

“Yeah… I still have drinking water but I need to do some laundry this afternoon while it’s still hot enough to dry stuff.” 

Her trusty gallon laundry ziplock is starting to look a little worse for wear, but it hasn’t sprung a leak yet. Soul sets up the tents closer to the shore but Maka has to go further into the woods to keep the lake detergent free. Shake. Dump. Rinse. Repeat. She’s out of water so she’ll have to hike back down for another pot full. If there’s one thing she misses about living in a house, it’s having a dryer.   

Down by the lake, Soul is starting to set up the stove when Maka goes to fetch water. 

“I can still cook, you don’t have to do extra stuff just because I’m doing personal chores,” she says. 

Flicking his eyes briefly upwards, he continues what he was doing. “We’ll be eating sooner if I get started now, so I don’t mind.” 

“We can trade another day if you have stuff to do.” 

“Totally.” The stove hisses to life. 

Guilt and gratitude tug equally on her heart. Soul always acts like the nice things he does are self-serving but Maka has learned to see past the denial. She finishes her laundry as the sun dips behind the mountains. 

They sit cross-legged in the dirt as the first twilight stars blink into being. Soul serves her scrambled eggs made from powder-mix and some teriyaki flavored jerky -- not a bad meal as far as camping food goes. 

Maka sneaks as many glances as she can get away with, trying to read what her friend is thinking. But the one time she catches his eye, all she sees is the same searching look trying to read her too. Neither one of them is an open book. 

“How much more of California do you think we have left?” Maka asks. The evening crickets aren’t enough to make her brain stop racing around. 

“All of it,” Soul answers, teasing. “California is infinite, we’re trapped here forever.” 

“That wouldn’t be so bad.”

He locks onto her. “Really? Where are you headed after this anyway? The whole trail, I mean.” Has he figured her out that quickly? 

Not a question she wants to answer; she needs a distraction, quick. Without thinking of how ridiculous it sounds, she blurts, “I think I’m going to go for a swim.”  

“You have a swimsuit?” 

“Nope.” An idea starts to form, something to break the stalemate she started. She’s about to engage in the highest-stakes game of chicken she’s ever participated in. What Soul  _ doesn’t  _ know is that she isn’t bluffing.

His impassive face shifts into something more recognizable: confusion with a hint of curiosity. “Your extra clothes are still drying, you really want to get something else wet?” 

“Nope.”

Knit eyebrows shoot skyward. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s getting dark, there’s no one here anyway.”  

“ _ I’m _ here!”

She stands and starts pulling off her sweatshirt. “That’s okay.” 

“Maka--”

“I’m going swimming,” she says. “You can come or not, your choice.” 

A moment of modesty has her finish undressing behind a bush on the lake’s edge before slipping into the water, but then the deed is done and all she can do is see if he’s going to meet her in the middle. Maka shivers as she wades out. It’s cool, but then as the night air turns crisp and a breeze blows across the lake, a warmth settles into her skin while she sinks in up to her neck. She floats on her back and the adrenaline coursing through her veins flows out of her limbs. With each shade darker the sky becomes, the Milky Way comes into definition with startling clarity. 

She could almost forget what she came out here for until she hears a faint disturbance at the campsite and pops her head back upright to get a better look. 

“Maka?” Soul calls. 

All she can see is shadows. “What’s up? Are you coming in?” 

It takes a lifetime for him to respond. “Maybe…”

“Maybe? What does that mean?” Either he’s getting in the water or he isn’t. Maka swims a little closer to the beach, keeping her body in the water up to her chin even when her feet touch the bottom. 

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea, from the misunderstanding we had the other day,” Soul says. 

She sinks a little lower in the water. She’s about to get let down gently. Still, she’s not jumping to conclusions until the words actually come out of his mouth. Instead, Maka asks, “What idea would that be?” 

“The idea that I’m not attracted to you.” 

Maka forgets to breathe and snorts in water when she remembers again. She coughs and instinctively gasps that she’s okay despite the fact that she’s not sure she is, in fact, okay. 

“I would never do something to make you uncomfortable, or anything,” Soul continues while Maka dies inside and is reborn. “I just thought, if you’re inviting me to go frickin’ skinny dipping because you feel safe around me, that’s great and all but I thought you deserved full disclosure. So that’s what maybe means.” 

“Ah.” There’s no bluffing in sight. “That’s not why I invited you to go skinny dipping.”

“Oh.” 

“So are you getting in the water?” Maka asks.  _ Third time’s the charm.  _

Soul doesn’t answer, but she hears rustling and the splash of someone wading clumsily on a rocky lake bottom. When he starts getting closer, she flicks water towards him and starts swimming a little further out, staying where she can still stand but also stretch her legs out. 

“Are your feet touching?” A low voice startles her from behind. 

Maka whips around and Soul is there. While she’s up to her neck, his shoulders stay comfortably above the water line, and his white hair seems to shine faintly in the star light. Not fair at all. 

“Yes, my feet are touching.” She stretches up on her tiptoes. “I’m tall.” 

“Sure you are, short stuff.” 

“I will have you know, five foot three is above average for Japanese women, so there.” It’s petty as hell, but she’s two inches taller than her mom so that has to count for something. 

“Of course,” Soul says, a smile evident in his voice, though Maka can’t see it. 

Unsure what to say next, she breathes as quietly as she can while freaking out inside. What was she thinking, getting naked with a guy she barely knows? That’s not true, though. She does know him, in some ways she doesn’t know most people. And like he said, he would never do something to make her uncomfortable. If she’s trying to be straightforward about her tangled-up feelings, at some point she’s going to have to confess that she has no clue what she’s doing. 

“I’ve been kinda confused, about what’s been going on the last couple days,” Maka admits. 

“I think it’s been more than a couple days, for me at least.” Soul sways his hands through the water, making tiny waves that lap up her neck like a secondhand touch. 

For being proud of her intellect, sometimes she is very stupid. “Oh. When--? Why didn’t you--?” She can’t even figure out what question to ask. 

“Back at the inn,” he says. “I was getting all worked up about if there was only going to be one bed and then… was a little disappointed there wasn’t.” 

Now that she thinks back, he had been acting a little weird then; she just wasn’t paying enough attention to see the signs. She’s stupider than she thought. 

Maka bites her lip. “Anyway, I know we won’t see each other after the trip is over,” she starts. No matter how kind, and sharp, and warm Soul is, she has to keep it casual for her own sanity. That means laying some groundwork, though. Much as she wants to keep from getting hurt herself, the one thing that might be worse would be hurting Soul for her own selfish purposes. 

“I don’t have any expectations.” His hands come up from the water with a splash, held up in a sign of truce. “Not now, or later. I really just thought you deserved to know.” 

He’s more hesitant than she is, and she already knows he’s trying to be respectful. Which would be sweet if it wasn’t so damn annoying. “What if I want you to kiss me though?” 

“I can do that.” His low voice dips lower, soft and heated. 

A shiver runs down Maka’s spine unrelated to the coolness of the lake and the night air. Standing on the balls of her feet, she squares her shoulders and lets Soul come to her. Every move he makes is slow, deliberate, like he’s planning each maneuver in a collaborative game of chess. He stops a fraction of an inch in front of her and Maka vibrates, unsure if they’re going to touch or not. Soul has to be more experienced than her so she’s just along for the ride. 

One cool hand comes to rest against her cheek before sliding back into her damp hair. She should probably be closing her eyes right about now but they’re wide open trying to take in whatever details she can glean in the darkness. His breath tickles her forehead. Then his nose presses against hers, and the scruff of unshaved facial hair scratches lightly across her cheek as Soul tries to map his way to her mouth by braille. 

Their lips meet with a hitch of Maka’s breath and her eyes finally slide closed. She’s been kissed before, sure, but not like this. Middle school spin-the-bottle no longer counts. If she was expecting fireworks, they don’t happen -- rather it feels like a slow paced ignition. Soul’s lips are firm, but he moves tenderly, pressing in and backing off like he’s afraid to take too much. But once the heat in her blood reaches a boiling point, she plants her hands on his shoulders and sucks on his bottom lip. He gets the idea. 

It’s a clumsy dance, both aware of being very naked, wanting to touch, but not too much. This probably wasn’t the best choice for a makeout spot but Maka hadn’t thought that far ahead. She grips his arms, safe territory, and breaks away. 

“You okay?” Soul squeezes her neck but the contact goes straight to her heart and gives a twist. 

“Yeah. Totally.” Everything is casual. One (maybe technically more) good kiss doesn’t have to change anything. Endorphins are a disaster and the brain is a dirty liar and there’s nothing to suggest they would work out long-term. “Just getting cold.” 

“Probably a good idea.” 

Now that they’ve stopped kissing and the adrenaline is starting to run out, the temperature really does set in and she shivers. “I think it’s past our bedtime, anyway.”  

“Can’t believe I’m a bonafide adult with an enforced bedtime,” Soul grumbles. “Let’s head back.” 

They slosh back into the campsite, getting a little lost on the way with no good landmarks. Fumbling along the shoreline, they eventually find the flat open space where they had waded in. Maka promptly remembers she is, in fact, in the nude, and snatches her clothes off the rocks she had left them on. Soul blinks a headlamp on for a brief second, she screams, and they go plunging back into darkness even further blinded. 

“Sorry about that,” Soul says. 

“It’s fine,” Maka squeaks, putting her dry clothes on her wet body as quickly as she can. “You can turn the light back on.” 

He’s still dripping and shirtless but wearing boxer briefs -- also wet. The coward! She had been full commando. He opens his tent, looks down at his wet underwear and says, “I’m going to change.” 

Soul vanishes into the tent, and zips it behind him. With his light still on, she can see his silhouette through the fabric and feels like a voyeur. She quickly turns around until she hears him emerge with significantly more clothes on.

“I hope you aren’t sleeping in wet underwear,” Maka says, as if she hasn’t gotten her own clothes damp by putting them on without drying off. 

“I’m not, just going to hang them on the laundry line.” 

She might complain if she didn’t already have her own skivvies hanging up there. The wilderness brings great privacy from the civilized world, but you can’t hide much from the people you backpack with. 

After wringing and hanging the wet underwear, Soul goes back to his tent. Maka stays rooted at the spot, unsure how to say goodnight to her travel-buddy turned friend-with-kissing-benefits.

“Do you want to come in?” Soul asks, slouching half in and half out of the door flap. Immediately realizing what that invitation could suggest, he then backtracks a mile a minute. “Not that I’m trying to insinuate anything, or do anything, at all. I did just mean it when I said I don’t mind sharing. If you want.” 

Oh, Maka does want. But she’s already having a hard enough time keeping a fence up where a guard tower once stood and she needs to steel herself. 

“That’s okay, I sleep better having my own space,” she says. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Hopefully he doesn’t take the refusal as a  _ total  _ rejection. She’s not rejecting him, just rejecting the possibility of cuddling and accidentally forming a stronger bond via oxytocin. Maka goes into her own tent, her own spacious, lonely, holey tent. Resisting the urge to take it back and go diving into Soul’s sleeping quarters, she repeats a mantra. 

_ It’s just casual. It’s just casual. It’s just casual. _

* * *

 

Six days later they reach Etna Summit and not much has changed. After Maka had declined any tent sharing situation barring foul weather, Soul backed off considerably. He’s perfectly friendly, still cracking dumb jokes at the worst moments like when they’re at the top of a peak and Maka is too out of breath to laugh but does anyway. There haven’t been anymore spontaneous makeouts, though, and Maka is jonesing for another. Sometimes when they’re setting up camp and working on tents together, his arm will brush against hers and he gives her a  _ look _ but she can’t figure out what to read from it. 

“We’re a few days ahead of schedule,” she says. Pretty miraculous considering the delays they’ve had with Soul’s ankle. She did account for mishaps, and they haven’t strayed off trail too many times. Even with the fuel fiasco, being able to carry more varied supplies between the two of them so they don’t have to stop as often has done them good. 

“Does that mean we can slow down?” Soul pants. “We’re going North, shouldn’t the weather be cooling off?” 

“It’s almost August. And I think we should keep going, you never know when something bad will happen so it’s better to be ahead.” Maka squints at her map, marked over with pen for travel plans. “We could go into town for supplies, though. It’s the closest in we’ll be until we get to Seiad Valley in another five days.”

“How far is it into town?” he asks. “Can we hold out for another five days?” 

“Nine miles each way, but we could try to get a ride in and walk out tomorrow. Should be downhill…” It’s possible their supplies can last until the next time the trail actually crosses something resembling a town. But rationing food at their current level of exertion doesn’t seem like the safest plan.

Soul shrugs. “I’m game. Does that mean staying in a motel?” 

“I wouldn’t mind a hot shower. We haven’t stayed somewhere indoors since that place outside Chester.” Backpacking may involve a lot of time roughing it, but it just makes the thought of a bed more exciting. Besides, a shared room might facilitate taking things a step further with Soul. 

They catch a ride in with a couple, apparently on a road trip honeymoon. One of the women suggests all getting dinner together and recommends the hotel they’re staying at a little ways out of town. But Maka politely requests they just drop them off at the grocery store. Making sure to get enough fuel to cook for both of them, they finish the shopping and pick up sandwiches from the deli for dinner. Now they just have to track down a motel. 

There are a few other people walking around in obvious trail clothes with tanned faces. Unladen by backpacks, the trail people are still easy to spot. A thought flashes through Maka’s head that they may be too late for a vacancy, especially if the small town is only equipped for a few tourists at a time.

“Hey, do you know where we can find a room to stay?” she asks a random guy with a promising sunburn sitting outside a brewery. 

He doesn’t give a name, just gestures. “Up the street.” 

Anxious to get a good spot, hopefully with two beds again, Maka stomps off with Soul in tow. 

“What’s the rush for?” he squawks, struggling to keep up with her speed walking even with his long legs. 

“Nothing, just want to find a good spot. I think I see a sign up there.” 

The motel is a single-floor building with outdoor entrances to each room and a separate office. Maka doesn’t see a sign indicating if there’s rooms available or not, so she’ll just have to ask. A bell on the door tinkles when it opens, catching the attention of the attendant.  

“Good afternoon,” a squat woman with distinct buck-teeth waves them forward. “Looking for a room, dears? Or two rooms? We have plenty of space.” 

Maka looks at Soul and knows with a glance that they’re on the same page. Whatever their relationship status, there is no way they are springing for two separate rooms. 

“One is fine,” he answers. 

“One queen? Two doubles?” She starts clicking the mouse on her computer too fast to actually be doing anything, likely eager to book them in. 

“Two,” Maka says before Soul can get a word in to include her in any bed sharing. She wants to make out, not move in. 

“Fine, fine, number twelve. I’ll need a card number for filing.” The clerk trades a room key with a plastic tag for Soul’s credit card. 

Before Maka can say anything to protest, he whispers, “You paid for the last one, so now we’re good.” 

She bites her lip. He had bought her dinner, but this place is also cheaper so it might be more even  _ technically.  _ Something about having a guy pay for stuff doesn’t sit right with her, though. 

They head back outside and down to the very end of the row of rooms. Soul unlocks the door with a good amount of wiggling before the sticky lock pops open.  _ How long ago did someone use this room?  _ It’s not dusty, but there’s something about it that makes it feel unused and uninhabited. Maka unstraps her backpack and flops down on one of the beds, leaving a body shaped dent in the comforter. 

“I think it’s too early to sleep,” Soul says, shedding his own backpack and dropping it to the floor with a heavy clunk. 

“Don’t care,” she answers. “This bed isn’t even that comfortable but I’m not getting out of it.” 

Face down in the pillow she can just hear Soul move around the room, taking his boots off, and sitting down on the other bed with a creak of old springs. “I guess I’ll see what the shower’s like.” 

Once the bathroom door opens and shuts, she rolls to her side and looks at the wall. It’s probably not the sexiest place to get a little down and dirty, but it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable rolling around in a bed than on the ground. Or standing in an alpine lake at night. She probably has to actually talk to Soul about where they stand first. If she can stay awake through the calming sound of rushing water. 

Soul comes out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, towel wrapped around his waist, and Maka is suddenly very awake. When they were at the lake she had been too mortified to take too much notice of his physique but now it’s the only thing in her line of vision and she can’t look away. She didn’t expect a lanky guy like him to have abs like that but she supposes weeks of intensive backpacking will do that to a person.  

“Sorry.” He crouches by his backpack and starts rummaging. She has no clue what he has to be sorry about. “I forgot to bring clean pajamas in.” 

He starts to walk back to the bathroom, presumably to put clothes on. The window is closing to stop him--

“Wait,” Maka blurts out. “Can we talk about something?”

Soul rubs a freshly shaved face. “Right this second? I’m a little… indisposed.” He gestures to his state of undress. 

“I don’t mind.” She dearly wishes she knew if her attempted sex-eyes were coming across as such or if she just looks demented. “Don’t mind at all.” 

“Man, you are really--” he pauses to sit down on the bed opposite her with a sigh. “You’re really something, sometimes.” 

“I’m not quite sure what to make of that.” 

Clean shaven really works for him. Maka has gotten familiar with the scruffy look, but maybe this is the regular Soul and she’s only been hanging out with wilderness-Soul. 

“Just not sure where to stand with you exactly, so I’m trying to give you space.”

She cuts him off. “You don’t have to give me space. I already told you I like you.”

“Not in so many words, but okay, why did you ask for a room with two beds then?” 

Ah. Now she sees the misunderstanding that must have been building up since she said she sleeps better by herself. Maka never understood the whole romantic obsession with bed sharing. True, she doesn’t want to be touching someone else when she’s asleep, and she doesn't want to set a precedent for more relationship-like behavior. But that doesn’t mean they can’t have some other kinds of intimacy.

“I’m not trying to be in a relationship at this point in my life,” she says. If she’s being truthful she’s not sure she’ll ever trust someone enough to be in an actual relationship, but it wouldn’t hurt to get a little practice in if she ever is ready. “And we won’t really see each other after this trip.”

“Yeah, I know.” Soul runs a hand through his hair, apprehension still written on his face. “You never told me where you’ll be going anyway.” 

“Uh… Not  _ that _ far away from you.”  _ God _ , she feels so guilty for not telling him the full truth yet but she just can’t foresee how things are going to pan out. “But I’ll be busy starting a new job anyway, so even if we could hang out occasionally--”

He finishes the sentence for her. “You think it would be better if we stay friends and don’t hook up.” 

“Not exactly.” 

His eyebrows shoot up; she has his attention now. 

“We could still be friends and also hook up. Maybe. If you want.” Looking him in the eye is impossible, this is exactly why she needs to get some of this experience now before she goes into the real world. 

Soul leans his elbow on his knees and props his head up. Eyebrows knit in concentration like he’s trying to put together the puzzle pieces. 

“Is something wrong?” She can’t help but let a little panic into her voice. Hopefully she hasn’t totally ruined the friendship they do have, that part she would like to hold onto a little longer. 

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “Just thinking, now that we’ve established it would be best to be friends with… whatever benefits you want. I was wondering if you would want to share a bed or tent.” 

Damn. That’s the one rule she was setting for herself. “I did mean it when I said I sleep better alone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t visit.” 

It’s downright torturous how long Soul takes to consider things sometimes, and this time is the worst as it takes the longest for him to say anything. Well, she tried, and she didn’t compromise her boundaries. She just has to wait for him to set his own. 

“Okay,” he finally says. “I’m still going to put pajamas on, though. For now.” 

Still clutching the towel around his waist, he hobbles back to the bathroom. All in all better than she expected. Soul comes back out quickly, hair still damp but fully clothed. Approaching like a slow yet skittish cat, he slinks back over. Where will he sit? Will he take up her offer of  _ visiting?  _

No. 

He sits back down on the other bed, hands on his knees. 

“So.” A deep inhale, then in a garbled rush, “Am I still invited over?” 

It’s like he’s asking her for a dance at the junior-high prom. Maka snorts. Soul is so ernest it twists something deep in her stomach. That can’t be good. But she likes the shape of his face and his shoulders too much to look into it right now. 

“Yes, you’re still invited over,” she says, face heating up against her will. If he calls her out for blushing she will absolutely die. 

As she stares at her knees, the bed sinks next to her. He still isn’t even touching her -- he’s sitting an inch away, but she still shakes. Maybe she’s a really bad kisser and should get some practice. Except Soul is supposed to  _ be _ the practice, and they already kissed once already so she should be over it already. 

“Maka,” he murmurs. Calloused fingers push a strand of hair behind her ear and she nearly jumps out of her skin. Something about him just makes her so sensitive and she hopes it’s not like this when she actually likes someone. 

“What?” It comes out as a yelp, she’s so distracted by the thumb tracing the shell of her ear to focus any attention on being a normal goddamn person.  

“If you’re nervous, nothing has to happen.” Maka should never have dared to look at Soul’s face when he says this. His eyes are too tender, too concerned for her wellbeing. “I told you I don’t have expectations, about anything.” 

“I’m not nervous,” Maka lies. She gets up from the bed and stands in front of him, reiterating the sentiment a couple more times to convince herself more than anything. “I am not nervous.” 

If she was nervous she wouldn’t be inching closer, staring him down. If she was nervous she wouldn’t be planting a knee on one side of him and hoisting herself into his lap. If she was nervous she wouldn’t be throwing her arms over his shoulders and leaning her forehead against his. 

Soul’s pupils are so blown out that his wine deep eyes look black, taking everything in. 

“Are you okay with this?” she whispers. She’s not the only party at play here and she doesn’t want to be the kind of bulldozer who mistakes blatant discomfort for excitement. 

“Very okay.” 

His gaze shifts down and Maka’s eyes follow to where his hands are hovering at her hips, not yet daring to touch. There’s no clearer signal she can make besides to scoot back a little, grasp his hands in hers and put them in their proper place. Time shudders to a stop for a moment. Maka holds her breath. Then the buzzing adrenaline that comes with proximity and touch comes crashing down. Soul grazes up her back and down, covering new territory with fervent reverence. Even through the fabric of her shirt, he’s warm, scalding, and the sudden flood of his desire makes her giddy. 

Somehow his face had ended up in her neck, and while his breath across her collarbones is  _ quite  _ interesting, if Maka spends another minute not kissing him she’s going to explode. She threads her fingers through his surprisingly soft hair and tugs lightly. It surprises her how pliable he is in her hands. 

“Is something wrong?” Soul asks, firm touch turning feather light at a moment’s notice. 

“Not at all,” Maka whispers, leaning in and tilting until their lips brush and all of Soul’s enthusiasm comes back. If all he needs is a little reassurance that she’s pleased, she is certainly happy to provide that. 

Everything is a little clumsy and eager, but she would probably feel inadequate if he was an immeasurably talented kisser. Whatever his experience is, she’s enjoying her first real makeout session that seems like it could even head for second base. She wiggles in his lap, trying to get as close to him as she can, but there’s something she can’t put her finger on. Something pressing into her inner thigh and that’s… Oh. That happened quicker that she expected, talk about the mysteries of the male physiology. 

“Sorry.” Soul breaks their kiss, face beet red. 

“Ah--it’s fine, I was just surprised.” Maka had just reeled him in, she doesn’t want to scare him off now that things are getting so heated. She wants things she didn’t really realize she wanted. “I am kinda sitting on you so… makes sense.” 

“We can stop if you want,” he says. 

“We can stop if  _ you _ want.” 

Once again they’re at a stalemate except this time his dick is between them. Where can they go from here, exactly? She hadn’t really considered the possibility of having sex and is completely unprepared safety-wise. But now that she’s had a taste she’s going to want to try it out soon. Soul speaks her mind. “Everything just went all zero to sixty. I just don’t know how far you want to take things.”

“Hmm.” It doesn’t take her long to think. “We could have sex but probably not right now.”

“Uh, yeah I do not have condoms, definitely didn’t foresee anything like this when I was packing.” Soul scratches the back of his head. 

Graceless, Maka swings a leg around to sit next to him rather than on top of him. It doesn’t seem like that difficult of a problem to fix if they’re on the same page about it. “So, we buy some.” 

“Tonight?!” 

“Of course not, tomorrow. There should be a gas station around here somewhere.” 

“Okay then.” Soul claps his hands then. “So that’s it then?” 

It seems a strange place to leave things after just a few minutes of something explosive, and it is still pretty early…

“Maybe we could--”  _ how does she phrase this  _ “--keep kissing like this a little longer?” 

At some point she’ll have to cut herself off before she grows too accustomed to having him, but now is not the time. For now Maka is indulging in living in the moment. All she has to do is keep her feelings in check, and that can’t be too hard. 


	4. Ashland and Lost Lake

The whole ordeal of buying condoms from a judgmental teenager with a cross around his neck must have been more scarring for Maka than Soul originally imagined. The look in the young man’s eyes spoke of the hellfire and brimstone that some apparently still believe comes from premarital sex and contraception. Sure, buying condoms isn’t usually fun. On the rare occasion when Soul had ever gotten some in preparation for a date, things had never ended up going that way, so it seemed a waste of social energy and culturally induced shame. But it was still the responsible thing to do. He doesn’t know what Maka’s experience has been, but their encounter seems to have shocked her into celibacy. 

Five days later they’re restocking on fuel in Seiad Valley and it’s like the events in Etna never happened. No matter, Maka has seemed on the edge about what she actually wants from the beginning. He’ll let her figure it out and come to him about it if and when she’s ready. 

Keeping his expectations low is a struggle, though. Not about the sex, or even the making out, which, while brief but amazing, he can live without. The problem is there’s more that he wants, that she’s been very clear is not part of the plan. 

He’s never been one to get crushes easily, but when they happen he goes off the deep end pretty quick. Something clicked in him between the inn and his tumble into the creek bed and despite his best efforts, he can’t click it off. So, while he has no idea what to do with the hot and cold attitude, he has this urge to spend more time with Maka, get to know her more and find out what makes her tick. It’s distressing, and a little embarrassing; he would never admit it to anyone. But he’s passed denial and bargaining into a phase of resigned acceptance. Romance is already off the table, though, Maka has been very upfront about that. He agreed it would be best so he can’t exactly go back and put pressure on her to date him now. Whatever dating would look like -- kerosene lamp dinners in the forest perhaps. 

Better to keep it to himself at this point before she runs screaming into the night. 

They go another couple of miles after stopping in town. Since they had walked out of Etna they had lost a day of travel and Maka is antsy about completing the trip on time so she can start her new job. They’ve upped the pace to thirteen miles a day, which isn’t as hard as he’s afraid of now that he’s in the best shape of his life. 

“Do you want to come get water?” Maka asks, taking off her backpack and putting it inside her tent. He’s still a little frustrated that she’s so determined to sleep in the dumb thing with it’s charred hole in the side, but he knows her stubbornness and personal space issues enough to not push it. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think to stop and refill back in town.” He should be better about remembering these things at this point considering he’s been living like this for more than a month. When they get back to civilization he’s never going to take basic amenities and indoor plumbing for granted ever again. 

Leaving the campsite behind still makes Soul feel a little off, even knowing how unlikely it is for anything to happen. There’s a nagging, paranoid kind of fear that he’ll come back and all of his gear will be gone. They’ve had plenty of little mishaps along the way, though, he should just get over it at this point. Faithful map in hand, Maka starts wandering off the trail, checking her compass and wandering back until she gets her bearings. 

“There should be a stream down this way.” She points and Soul follows. 

It’s late enough in the summer for the water levels to be low, and the first creek they look for turns out to be a dud. They end up having to backtrack a ways before finding something that’s running and clear enough to make for reasonable drinking water. Now that they’re in August, he’ll have to remember to get water where they can find it if they can’t rely on snow melt streams anymore. 

The sun is getting low when they get back to the campsite, casting long shadows on the undergrowth, surreal shapes of all the things that could be hiding among the leaves. One shadow in particular looks especially out of place, a big blob off the side of Maka’s tent. Soul wonders what could be making that, looking around for a weird shape up in the branches until the shadow starts moving in his peripheral vision. 

Mystery shadow has a face, a dopey face with beady eyes. At first he thinks it’s a large dog -- they’re not that far out of town so it would make sense. But no dog is that big, or that round, with stocky legs and a stub of a tail. 

“Holy shit,” Soul gasps, rooted to the spot. 

Before it really sinks in what they’re looking at, Maka jumps in front of him, dropping her water bottles and picking up a fallen branch.

“Maka, wait, that’s a  _ bear.”  _ She has to be smarter than to try to fight off a bear, even if it is eating their food -- they can always backtrack and get more. Nothing is worth losing an arm over. “Aren’t we supposed to roll in a ball or climb a tree or something?!” 

“It’s a black bear, it could climb up the tree after you. We need to let it know we’re here and scare it off.” 

It sounds like she knows what she’s talking about, but to Soul, a bear is a bear no matter what kind. If it was snooping his tent he would probably just let it live there as long as it liked. 

“Be careful,” he hisses, but Maka is already waving her arms in the air like she’s trying to act like she isn’t a scrawny little thing. 

“Hey, bear,” she calls out, loud but not threatening. “Shoo bear.” 

The animal is not interested in being shooed. It squints at them -- Soul stays frozen and hopes that it can only see movement like Jurassic Park taught him. Bears and dinosaurs are both predators, right? Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it seems most interested in getting into  _ something  _ inside Maka’s tent. The head disappears again and Maka starts inching forward.

“Oh hell no.” The small hole in her tent has been ripped to accomodate a large mammal going in up to his shoulders. Whatever it wants so badly, it’s going to get. “There’s nothing he can even get, it’s all sealed up pretty tight. Hey, bear!” she yells again, moving closer with the stick. “Get out of here!”  

“He’s probably used to people,” Soul says, scooting closer as well, though he still doesn’t have half the guts Maka does. “Digging through trash cans down in town and stuff.” 

Sure enough, the bear pops out, not holding any food, but carrying Maka’s small bag she’s been using to pack out any packaging or used matches. 

“That isn’t food!” She squeaks. “This bear is going to go litter all over the forest if he takes that.” 

“You are  _ not _ going to try to grab something back from a wild animal. I don’t want to have to carry you to the closest hospital wherever that even is.” 

She scoffs, as if it doesn’t totally look like that’s what she’s trying to do. “I’m not going to fight the bear. I just can’t believe he’s stealing a bunch of plastic, it’s not going to be good for him.”

And now she’s sympathizing with the animal’s poor life choices. Soul sighs. If it’s going to ignore them there isn’t much they can do besides wait until it wanders off with its prize. But Maka just can’t let sleeping bears lie. 

“Pst. Hey.” She’s going into bargaining now, like if she’s nice enough she can convince it to just patch up the giant rip in the side of her tent and send her an apology note. Finally, when she whistles, the bear turns its head with ears perked, like it’s seeing them for the first time now that they’re only a few yards away. 

One giant paw takes a step forward. Well, they’re going to die now, and they’ll be in the newspapers as a cautionary tale of using safety measures when hiking, when it wasn’t even food that ended up being the problem. Bracing himself for a swat to the face that could leave him unrecognizable, Soul scrunches his eyes shut. 

“Go on, now,” he hears Maka say, still apparently not giving up on chasing it off regardless of how brazen it’s been this whole time.  _ “Please.” _

Apparently black bears respond best to polite requests. After a quick rustling and heavy footsteps into the woods, Soul dares to open his eyes again. They’re both still standing and their furry intruder’s behind is getting smaller and smaller as it waddles off into the woods. It had even dropped the damn trash bag on its way out of camp. Once the threat of giant claws and thumb-sized canines has truly passed, Maka crumples to her knees and Soul drops just as quickly to catch her. Her hair falls over her face and a wheezing, choking sort of sound escapes her throat. The adrenaline of challenging an animal five times her size must be wearing off and they’re both bound to crash and burn. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching to push the hair out of her face, ready to pick her back up. 

But beneath her bangs isn’t the hysteria he was expecting. Maka’s face is scrunched up, sure, and she’s wiping a single tear from her eye, but she’s laughing. Laughing so hard she can’t breathe and no wonder it sounded like she was going to die.

“I can’t breathe,” she giggles her way into a cough, catches her breath and immediately starts laughing again. “He dropped the trash bag!” 

“That’s a good thing, right? Weren’t you worried about littering?” He was worried about getting his face ripped off but to each their own. 

“Yeah, he would’ve choked on it.” 

Facing that kind of stress does things to people, and Maka is no exception. Soul never could’ve predicted what she would do next, though. Once she’s gotten back to her feet and gone a few mere seconds without cackling, she stands up on tiptoe and smashes her lips to his. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed (it’s the third to be exact) but it still catches him off guard. She uses his shoulders to hold herself up, and leans into him with such unexpected voracity. There’s no chance in hell Soul is ever going to understand what goes on in that girl’s head, but he’s smitten all the same. 

Maka breaks away, eyes still gleaming with the tears left from her laughing fit. “I guess I should check on my stuff.” 

Oh, yes, that. He glances over her shoulder and  _ wow _ . “It doesn’t look good.” 

That was certainly an understatement but he wanted to prepare her without devastating her. The bear had ripped open the whole side of the tent, shredding the fabric like tissue paper -- he’s surprised it’s still standing at all. Maka starts sorting out her backpack which looks much more intact. One buckle looks like it was cracked open by sheer force, leaving a puncture mark through the plastic the diameter of a pencil. That won’t be closing anymore. 

“I don’t think bears are covered under the warranty,” Maka says, sobered now that she’s examining the flap of nylon that used to be one wall of her tent. “I don’t know if it’s even worth it to bring it back.”

“Yeah I don’t think it’s even functional as a windbreak anymore,” Soul replies. “Damn, Maka, I’m sorry that happened, tents are expensive, too.” 

Probably still in shock, she just shrugs. “You’re not the one who ripped a hole in it, or set it on fire. I think this is a sign I should never go camping again.”

Right at the moment Soul has a similar sentiment, but he’s also torn. This is the part of Maka he gets, and he wants to get as much of that as he can before they have to part ways. It hits his gut that she may consider breaking the trip off early at this point. There’s nothing stopping her from hopping on a bus once they hit Ashland, and that would mean he would only have a few more days with her. 

“You mean after this, right?” he asks. 

She stands and looks up, green eyes wide and uncertain. “Depends on if you’re still up for sharing or not.” 

“Of course,” Soul answers without thinking, no intentions on his mind except to keep her with him as long as he can. Man, is he gonna be screwed when this trip is over. Maka’s not the type to be convinced of much, and unless he can get her to think it’s her idea to date him it’s not going to happen. 

“Thanks, I owe you one.” 

He can’t help but frown a little; after that whole conversation about how she prefers to sleep alone he expected a little more back and forth than that. She’s acting like a friendly neighbor he just lent a cup of sugar to, but then she leans her forehead against his chest and the world softens. Soul’s arms find a home wrapped snugly around Maka’s waist. She holds still for ten warm and glorious seconds before wiggling against him and mumbling something unintelligible into his shirt. 

“What was that?” He reluctantly pushes her a few inches back. 

“‘M tired,” she mumbles. 

Ah, there’s the crash he was expecting. Now that his own heart is no longer racing to the tune of  _ bearbearbearbear  _ he’s about ready to pass out himself. “My tent is ready and waiting.” 

The connotation is different this time than the first time they shared the small space. That had just been for one night, but this will be for the next few weeks assuming they both survive the journey through Oregon. It was hard to sleep near her before, and it still is, but now he’s just waiting and hoping she’s going to kiss him again. Maka keeps her distance, though, neatly staying on her side of the shared thirty square feet. Soul so desperately wants to turn over, wrap himself around her and tell her that he doesn’t  _ really  _ just want to be friends with… occasional kissing benefits. If only he had the courage. 

Sometime in the night she moves closer, only by a centimeter or two, but it’s enough to feel her sleeping bag move through the heavy fabric of his own. He’s exhausted, delirious, groggy, probably imagining things, but faint lips brush the side of his neck before leaving just as quickly.

* * *

 

California is, in fact, not infinite, and they cross over into Oregon in a couple more days’ time. Even though they’re only moving closer to The End at a consistent thirteen miles a day, something about crossing the state line makes Soul more antsy about the state of their non-relationship. Maka is not a cuddler, or if she is she’s not willing to share that side of herself with him despite their proximity, but as they approach and subsequently pass Ashland, she does get bolder in the night. First it was the kisses on his neck, then sliding her hands over his hip bones promptly knocking the wind out of him. Always asking,  _ ‘Can I?’  _ Wanting to do for him but never asking him to do for her. She develops what Soul comes to think of as a signature move, climbing over him and straddling him, squeezing his shoulders through his shirt. 

She leans forward in the dark, bangs tickling his forehead, and he lets out a moan he didn’t realize he was holding in. He wants things, very badly. Wants to puts his hands and his mouth on every piece of her. He wants a lot of things, but he doesn’t think he can take them, and he doesn’t know how to ask. 

“Maka,” Soul sighs. Her name at least is easy on his tongue. 

“Is something wrong?” She sits up, and the movement certainly isn’t helping anything. 

“No… I--” he gasps, maybe it’s unintentional, the way she shifts ever so slightly so that he’s pinned between the exact center of her legs, maybe it’s torture. “Nothing is wrong, I just want…” 

If he trails off maybe she’ll get the hint without him having to be explicit about his desires, but she stays silent, waiting for him to finish his sentence. Maka is only polite when it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. 

When he doesn’t say anything, she finally says, “Show me.” Her voice is lower than he’s heard before, and it sends a pulse of fire through him. “You can show me what you want, I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” she adds. 

Where should he even start? He doesn’t have much of a clue how to go about touching another person, his only reference to go off is porn and he’s pretty sure that’s not something to emulate. He’s bound to mess something up, but there has to be some element of trust that they can communicate with each other. 

Slowly as the late summer sun sets, he slips her hands under Maka’s shirt, leaving them at her waist to give himself a moment to marvel at how soft her skin is. Preparing for a stoplight that never comes, he goes up, up, grazing over her ribcage and across her shoulder blades. She isn’t wearing anything underneath the shirt she’s sleeping in, which makes sense; he wouldn’t want to sleep in a bra either. What to do with this information, however, is lost to him. 

It would probably seem overeager if he went straight for her tits. Instead, emboldened by her explicit permission and shaky breath with the barest hint of a moan, he continues mapping out her back, her arms, her neck. 

His touch makes her wiggle in his lap and Soul has to adjust her into a more comfortable position.  _ Oh. _ Something aligned just so and even with clothes between them Soul can sense he’s close to something holy. Maka’s demeanor changes too, her fingers clutching his shirt. She’s tense. Excited? Nervous? 

“You still have those condoms, yeah?” she whispers. 

Already? It seems like they just started and as far as he’s aware, sex isn’t supposed to be a race. He’s already hard, sure, and he’s holding back the instinct to buck his hips up and get closer, closer,  _ closer. _ What if she needs more time to warm up, though? Does she know what she’s doing any more than him? Soul sure hopes so, because he’s on a steep learning curve and doesn’t want to slip up. 

“Yeah, they’re in my pack,” he answers, immediately regretting the phrasing of his next words. “Can you get off?” 

If Maka notices the innuendo, she doesn’t react. She just slides off and starts digging around their combined stuff. 

“You want a light?” Soul asks. It’s already cramped enough fumbling in a tent without throwing visibility out the window, but she waves him off and emerges victorious. 

“Take off your pants,” she says, adding a hasty ‘please’ on the end when she hears how demanding she sounds. 

“You take off  _ your _ pants,” he shoots back, a little annoyed at being pulled along this crazy roller-coaster without a chance to take in the scenery. 

Maka hesitates, though, and he realizes the forwardness is probably a cover up and maybe she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Soul takes the condom packet out of her hand and tucks it under his sleeping bag where it will be out of the way but not easily misplaced. 

Bringing her fingers to his mouth and brushing his lips across her knuckles, Soul says, “We don’t have to rush anything.” 

“Ah, okay.” She lets out the breath she was holding and lies back down next to him. They’re both quiet for a moment, trying to gauge the other without giving themselves away. Soul hopes Maka is relieved to not have pressure to perform, hopes she isn’t disappointed he wants to slow down. But she’s the one to break the silence, reaching over to comb through his hair. “Do you want to keep going though?” 

“Of course.” 

Without overthinking expectations, they link together more naturally, lying facing each other, Soul’s knee pressed between Maka’s legs and her hands up  _ his _ shirt now. After they start getting into a rhythm, though, she scoots back a bit. Soul prepares to withdraw his attention until she starts reaching down his pants instead. 

“Ah--Maka.” Soul nearly chokes. Her fingers are a little cool, but soft, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from melting right then. 

“Is it okay?” she asks. 

He reassures her quickly because the last thing he wants is for her to stop. Then he pulls her closer and puts his mouth to her neck because the sounds she makes when his tongue is over her pulse are delightful. It’s not long before she’s distracted and panting, asking for something, anything. Happy to direct attention to her so he doesn’t blow his cool  _ that _ quickly, he ventures under her waistband. Giving her butt a passing squeeze, because that’s been on his to-do list for ages, he traces his way along the crease of her thigh. No idea how much pressure to apply, Soul keeps his touch light and his movements infinitesimal until Maka starts grinding against his palm. With how wet she is, it isn’t long before two fingers slip inside and she moans. 

“Soul,” she says, nails digging into his shoulders -- which, while slightly painful, is an interesting sensation and he’s a goddamn masochist, isn’t he. “I think I’m ready, if you are.” 

“Yeah, I think so.” He withdraws to retrieve the condom from under the sleeping bag while Maka starts shimmying out of her pants and underwear. “How do you want to do this?” 

“I like lying next to you like this, if you think that would work.” 

Honestly, he has no idea, but it certainly sounds appealing. “Let’s try it.” 

Opening a condom in pitch blackness is tricky business, and putting it on the right way even more so. Now he’s finally glad for those humiliating high school health demonstrations with a banana. Even once it’s on and he’s pressed gloriously between Maka’s legs, it’s slippery and not entirely clear where he’s supposed to be going. The small adjustments and confirmations were never really mentioned in the harlequin romance novels his grandmother used to leave lying around the house. There’s a moment of tension, though, then Maka hooks a knee around his hip to pull him in and he can’t get any closer than this. 

Concerned about his stamina, Soul moves slowly, budging forward and back while he finds a way to reach between them and circle her clit. The least he can do is bring Maka along if he’s going to come five seconds from now. Miraculously, focusing on her more than how good everything feels helps, though the tiny whimpers and gasps coming out of her only serve to drive him closer to the edge. 

“Does this feel okay?” he whispers.

Maka merely hums and nods into his shoulder. “Keep going.” 

That he can do. Her voice takes on a tone of desperation, but it still catches him off guard when she tightens around him and suddenly he’s done for. 

“Maka, I’m--” Some part of him must have intended on apologizing but he’s past the point of no return. His body comes back under his control and everything slows down, but he’s still inside her and he can immediately tell she’s still taut and poised for something else. “You didn’t finish, did you?” 

“I was close, but... I think I would if you keep touching me like you were.”

There’s still a chance to redeem himself and he’s going to take it. Soul presses on, dedicating his entire focus to her until that tensed moment comes again but this time Maka cries out and unwinds in his arms. 

“Okay?” he asks, disentangling himself and realizing he now has to contend with getting the now used condom into a trash bag without making a mess in the tent. Never has he wanted to be in a bed more. 

“That was nice.” She sounds tired and he has to take that as a good sign. “I think I need to pass out for twelve hours now.” 

A piece of him wishes she would stay curled against him a little longer, but he’s not surprised when she gives him a kiss on the cheek and then rolls over. Soul can tell himself not to get his hopes up all he wants, but the truth is he would do a lot to have this last longer than the remaining few weeks of the trip.

* * *

 

The awkward dance of sorting through boundaries and signals gets easier over time. What’s hard to get over is the boundary Maka has put up that strictly defines them as ‘not in a relationship’ regardless of how they’ve been acting. Concerned about having time to unpack when they arrive, Maka had boosted their pace again, so now every day they’re even more miles closer to their destination. Soul feels like he’s on a train screaming off the edge of a cliff and every time they have sex the train goes faster. 

He should say something, or have better self-restraint, but it’s not fair to her to throw his feelings in her face after he specifically agreed to something casual. All he can do is hope she comes around. Maka said she wouldn’t be living that far away, whatever that means -- they could make it work, at least stay in touch. If only she was up for it.

They pass through Crater Lake, Willamette, Mount Hood, the finish line getting closer by the second, leaving Soul with no idea how to bargain for more time. 

Since they started hooking up, they’ve mostly been staying off the beaten path for the sake of privacy. Sure, there are other people out on the trail, especially day hikers in some of the more popular areas. The important thing is where they sleep -- off trail, not in organized camp sites. It’s in the spirit of backpacking, but having zero amenities is taking a toll, especially with their new grueling pace. Hauling water around for showers, dishes, and laundry has become what Soul dreads most during the day. Only second to the moment Maka inevitably rolls over, pulling her sleeping bag over her head to shield herself from anything resembling meaningful affection. They might only have a couple more days together, but at this point he’d take a reasonable shower over sex. He’s bummed out enough, he doesn’t know if he would be up for it anyway. 

“I think we can get to Lost Lake to camp tonight,” Maka says, jogging him out of his self-reflection. 

They’re on the downhill side of the mountain now, and Soul isn’t going to miss having to navigate trail markers to make sure they’re still going the right way. “Is there a campground there?” 

“Like… with people?” 

“Careful, I’ll think you’re only keeping me around for my body,” Soul only half jokes. Of course Maka is friendly, conversational, she just hasn’t shared much personal information since they had been stuck with his sprained ankle. 

“That’s not true!” At least she has the decency to sound offended. “I appreciate your company. This trip wouldn’t have been the same without meeting you.” 

And… that’s probably all he’s going to get. Words someone would write in your high school yearbook after having the same math class for three years in a row. He can’t take it personally, though. He can never take anything personally. They’re just going to different places. “Yes, a campground with people, but more importantly, showers.” 

Maka shrugs. She couldn’t be disappointed, could she? That would be something. “We can stay in a campground. I know there’s a store and resort up there.” 

It might be one of their last nights together, and regret starts to set in over his thoughtless request. But the deed is done, at least he can still sleep a few inches away from her. 

They fork right and start walking past the first campsites that sit around the far south tip of the lake. People, kids,  _ dogs.  _ Even a goddamn banjo, like someone thinks anyone would enjoy listening to that while they’re trying to enjoy nature. He’s become a hermit. An indecisive, gutless, lovesick hermit. 

Once they get a campsite picked and paid for, Soul leaves Maka to set up camp while he goes to take a shower. It’s five whole dollars for a shower, so it better be a good one. The water is warmer than the glacial runoff he’s used to bathing in, but not much. Brief and intense moments of scalding lava come raining down on his shoulders, interspersed with the lukewarm trickle of disappointment. Maybe he should’ve invited Maka in with him, that could’ve warmed things up. Or it could’ve been a disaster resulting in an outpouring of his unresolved feelings. He had been honest initially about not having any expectations, but in hindsight he was doomed from the start.

Maybe their campsite will end up with no close neighbors. Maybe they’ll be able to have a heartfelt discussion. Maybe he can get some closure even if it’s still in the form of goodbye. 

Or maybe Maka will be sitting in a folding chair sipping a beer with a group in the next campsite over.

“Hey, Soul,” she waves him over, and as tempted as he is to run away, he joins them. “This is my friend Liz, she’s on a weekend trip with her sister and some other friends.” 

Liz looks cool, too cool for him, as do the two guys in the group effortlessly pulling off neon tank-tops that would look like garbage on him. The sister might be approachable, but she also has a gleam in her eye that says she might punk him at any second. 

Harvar, Killik, Patty, and, of course, Liz all seem like perfectly friendly people. Soul has never had an easy time around strangers, but they manage to make him feel comfortable. Well, maybe except Harvar; he’s in a league of his own outranking a feral cat in aloofness and attitude. It’s fun being around other people for a change, but seeing Maka unfold is the best part. Seeing her in a group with someone she already feels comfortable with is a new facet he wishes he would have more opportunities to see. 

“So how did you meet this guy?” Liz asks, gesturing towards him with a bottle. 

“Totally randomly.” Maka shrugs. “Just happened to be hiking north about the same time and pace.” 

“How do you know he’s not a creep?” Harvar adds in.

Soul resents being talked about like he isn’t there, especially when he’s been making an effort to participate in conversation. He’s tempted to chew the guy’s ear off but Maka beats him to the punch.

“Been doing okay the last two months.” Her voice is calm, collected, but venomous. “Now you on the other hand I’ve only known a couple hours, so you’re more of a concern. Good thing I didn’t have to use my bear spray chasing off that bear we ran into a couple weeks back.” 

If Harvar is offended at Maka insinuating he has poor character, or the thinly veiled threat of bear spray, his face doesn’t even twitch. 

Patty shows enough emotion for both of them, cackling and clapping her hands to her knees. “She sure told you, Harv. You better sleep with your sunglasses off tonight.” 

Tipsy Maka is sassier than usual. And while Soul never really developed a taste for beer, he’s not about to turn it down when so generously offered. He may have one, or two, three  _ tops. _ The sun sets and they build a fire with actual firewood that no one has to run around the woods playing pick up sticks for. Since the group is car camping they have marshmallows and hot dogs, all the things that are fun about camping that Soul hasn’t gotten to enjoy while living off oatmeal in the forest. Killik takes out an acoustic guitar later in the evening and while Soul is ready for a cringey version of Wonderwall, the guy is actually pretty good and maybe he should try to get a jam session together if any of them happen to be in Portland. 

“Can I play something?” Soul asks, just enough alcohol in his system to lose his lifelong stage fright, but not enough to make him too worried about fucking up. 

“Sure, man.” Killik passes the guitar. “What’re you gonna play?” 

Soul gingerly takes the instrument into his arms like someone else’s newborn child and shrugs. Choosing something to play for people he doesn’t know well is a challenge in its own, and he decides to gamble on combined quality and nostalgia factor. As long as they have an ounce of the pop-punk obsession he had as a teenager, he can’t go wrong with Panic! at the Disco. 

Maybe crooning ‘if you love me let me go’ is a little on the nose but three-beer Soul is invincible. Liz and Patty’s hoots and hollers have got to be a good sign but it’s Maka’s reaction he looks for as soon as he leans the guitar against a cooler. 

She grins. “I never knew you were an emo kid. I shoulda known.” 

“Brendon Urie is a national treasure.” Soul frowns; it doesn’t matter the genre, that guy is a damn good singer. 

“Hit us with the MCR!” Liz hollers. 

Damn, he would be mad if they didn’t write some catchy and relatable tunes too. 

Eventually the festivities must end. They probably should’ve ended a few hours earlier, and not when staff from the resort came to politely ask them to quiet down for the night. Getting anything close to fifteen miles tomorrow is going to be hell, but maybe if they take it easy they can add an extra day onto the journey. 

Soul is a little self-conscious getting into a tent with Maka with other people there to bear witness, regardless of the fact that he intends on passing out immediately. Even if he was fantasizing about the possibility in the shower, their mutual intoxication has put an immediate lid on any half-formed ideas he may have had. 

“I’m gonna sleep with my friend now,” Maka announces, sense of privacy out the window. 

“Have fun!” Liz calls back, adding a verbal ‘wink wink’ to broadcast the message in the darkness. 

Maka’s legs lay diagonally across the tent floor after she’d dove through the flap. 

“Budge up,” he grumbles, shoving her legs over. She’s surprisingly heavy when in a deadweight stupor. As soon as he has gotten her onto her own side and lay down himself, though, she flops back on top of his chest with a sigh. They’re doing this now. Soul prepares to remind her of her earlier thoughts on not having sex within earshot of other people, and probably adding something about not messing around while intoxicated, but she beats him to the punch.

“‘M not having sex tonight,” Maka mumbles into his chest. 

“I would think not,” he says, rubbing her shoulders. “Seeing as you and I are both at least a little drunk.” They’re already on the same page then, and Soul feels safe in wrapping his arms around her back without suggesting any inappropriate intentions.  

“Is that okay?” she asks, tilting her chin up and jabbing it into his collarbone. 

“Of course,” he says, distracted by trying to adjust her face so it won’t injure him. 

While still determined to lie directly on top of him, she’s malleable, and he carefully arranges her like a puppet so her cheek is pressed to his chest and not his chin. Soul would like to think she trusts him enough to be this vulnerable, but it’s hard to know how much is Maka and how much is the alcohol. 

Maka isn’t long for the waking world, and she clumsily drags her sleeping bag over the top of herself while nuzzling into his shirt. “You’re so nice, Soul.”

With just the two of them, he so rarely hears his name from her mouth and it sounds like something soft and precious when she says it. And if she thinks him not acting like a total creep makes him ‘so nice’ then so be it. Unsure how to reply, he just rubs her back, drawing a satisfied hum from her throat. Would it be low of him to try to talk about the things he’s been thinking the last few weeks? 

“We’ll be hitting the Cascade Locks in just a couple days,” Soul says. He’ll take it slow, see how she’s feeling about their trip coming to a close, maybe see if she’ll deign to give him a phone number. 

“Hm.” 

“It’s been such a crazy journey.” 

“Yeah,” Maka sighs. “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.” 

He didn’t either but he’s pretty sure she’s talking about a different context while he’s just the dumb guy who couldn’t help getting invested. Soul makes the mistake of letting a little too much honesty slip through. “I’m going to miss you a lot, you know.” 

Her breath rattles in a shaky, muffled sob. “I’m going to miss you  _ so much.”  _

She whimpers and before he knows it she’s full on crying into his chest and he’s the reason why. It must be just as hard for her and he’s making everything worse. There must be some reason why she thinks things can’t work, some reason why she hasn’t been willing to cuddle up with him like an actual couple until now. Soul can sense he’s just about to see what’s behind the curtain, but now is not the time to push it. They don’t have a lot of time left but he can bring it up again when they’re both awake, sober, and tear-free. For now he can be what she needs and just hold her. 

When Soul wakes up, he’s surprised to see Maka is still lying on top of him, but it’s a good surprise. She hasn’t pulled her usual move of rolling to the side and running away. He brushes her hair off her forehead and her eyelids flutter. Face still slack for a moment, she’s relaxed until it hits her where she is and she sits up stammering. Of course it was too good to be true.

“Good morning,” Soul says. 

“Uh, yeah, hey.” Maka rubs her eyes, scouts around for a sweatshirt and pulls the extra layer over her head. “Sorry if I said anything weird last night, I don’t drink that often so I kinda lose my filter.” 

Now’s his chance to bring things to the surface, set the record straight about where they stand and where they’re going. He starts, “About last night--”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she cuts him off, pulling on her boots. His window of opportunity is closing fast and there’s not a lot he can do about it. “I need to pee.” 

Damnit, well, he still has time. And now that he knows that Maka may not be totally fine with them parting ways too… It’s a small seed but it’s already rooted firmly in his mind. She scrambles out of the tent and Soul dozes back off again, thinking of all the ways to breach the subject once they’re alone again. At this point he should just be totally upfront, no time to be subtle or play games. If she turns him down there’s nothing else to lose considering he’s about to lose her anyway. 

Waking up the second time, he immediately regrets not getting up and following Maka out earlier in the morning. By the time he gets out of his tent, Liz and the rest are up too. They’ve built another fire and are drinking coffee in their camp chairs. 

“Hey, sleepyhead!” Patty calls over to him. “You want a cup o’ joe?”

Soul is very grateful for the caffeine, less so for the company. To make matters worse, Maka stands up as soon as he joins the circle, announcing that she’s going to pack her stuff now that he’s awake. Being left with people he barely knows first thing in the morning is a nightmare in concept, but at least they don’t expect him to talk. Once Maka gets her stuff out of the tent he’ll be able to go take that down too, have a break for himself before they get back on the trail again. 

Maka returns shortly and leans her pack against the truck that’s pulled into the group’s campsite. Soul doesn’t think anything of it, though, until Liz speaks.

“When do you want to head out, Maka?” she asks.

Maka shrugs. “Whenever you’re all ready, I’m just happy to have a ride.” 

_ What. The Hell. Is going. On?  _

Before Soul can speak, she reads the confusion on his face and fills in the blanks. “I’m heading out with Liz; we’re so close to the end anyway, and this way I don’t have to deal with getting a bus or something.” 

It makes sense, but it’s still a low blow. Receiving the news with other people there, unable to respond with how he feels, is a punch to the gut. His window of opportunity just got a hell of a lot narrower, and is further blocked by the inability to talk to her alone. 

“Oh, okay.” 

“I just decided this morning,” she rushes to say. “We were just talking and I realized they had the middle seat open and were headed the same direction I need to go.” 

She feels guilty, and a vindictive piece of him thinks she  _ should _ feel like crap for not keeping him in the loop about what she’s doing. But maybe it really was just a casual thing all along, and he’s the only one reading into things. Maybe drunk tears were only just that: drunk tears. 

“I guess I’ll get ready to go if I’m not waiting on you, then,” Soul says, keeping his voice as measured as he can while his insides boil. He gets up from the fire and packs his stuff up as hastily as he can. Right now he wants to scream, and the sooner he gets into the woods and out of earshot, the sooner he can do that. 

With everyone there he can’t even say goodbye in any meaningful way, but maybe that’s for the best if she doesn’t want to get into things.

“Good luck with your new job,” Soul says, standing with his pack and ready to leave. 

“You too!” Maka doesn’t even get up to send him off.

Confused and disoriented from the events of the last twenty-four hours, he leaves. He walks away, and when he looks back, Maka is watching him go and not saying a word to stop him. 


	5. Portland

If it was a mistake, there’s no turning back now. Well, she could always turn to Blaine to get Soul’s contact information, but she won’t stoop to his level for two reasons. Firstly, she knows what she did was an asshole move to make, running out on him without any warning. Secondly, even if she was going to go back on her decision, the mighty Black Star is not who she would turn to. 

At first she imagines seeing Soul around every corner, seated in every coffee shop she passes by. They live in the same city, after all -- she could very easily run into him, and her daydreams vacillate wildly in how she would handle such an encounter. But in a city of a few hundred thousand people, meeting by coincidence is a one in a million chance. Or, one in six-hundred forty-seven thousand if she’s being exact. 

She stops anticipating fate. Instead, she throws herself into her work with reckless abandon. Being the lowest on the food chain, it’s a lot of grunt work and errands, with absolutely no time to work on any personal projects, but it’s probably for the best. When she’s at the publishing office she does the menial tasks no one else wants to do, and when she gets home and starts having an existential crisis, she researches, writes, keeps up on the news. 

Maka is in Portland for two whole weeks before she gets around to having lunch with Tsubaki. She feels a little guilty, as she usually does these days, but she tells herself that she needed the time to get settled and used to her return to civilization. 

Now that she’s across from her friend, who is sitting quietly and asking what the craziest part of her trip was between sips of bubble tea, Maka is at a loss for words. Every story she could tell would include Soul in some capacity, and while she’s willing to ignore their short history together, she can’t exactly edit him out. 

“Eh, nothing too weird,” she says. “I saw a bear, I guess.” 

She doesn’t mention who she was with when she saw the bear. Or who she kissed when rushing with adrenaline after yelling at the bear. Or whose tent she slept in after hers was ripped open by the bear.

“You sound so casual about it!” Tsubaki says, slamming her plastic cup on the table. “An actual bear? I can appreciate nature but that sounds terrifying.” 

_ Casual _ . It’s a word Maka has been holding in her mind for weeks, using it to justify her actions all along the way. She basically threw herself at a guy, but withheld the truly secret parts of herself and disappeared when he seemed like he might want something more. All because… what? She didn’t want to get her heart broken? She’s already accomplished that perfectly fine by sabotaging herself. 

Guilty, guilty, guilty. 

“It was a little scary, I guess.” 

“You guess,” Tsubaki repeats, ever calm, but like she knows something. 

It has to be her imagination -- no way anyone could be that astute. “Just got used to being in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Make any friends?” 

Maka nearly chokes on her tapioca when she says  _ that. _

“I mean, I know, you were doing a solo hike, but there must’ve been other people around? Right?” Tsubaki continues.

No way is she giving up any secrets that easily, even for her long-time friend. The other girl will have to work for it. Unless Tsubaki wants to come out and say she’s been sleuthing around and digging up dirt on her, Maka isn’t going to talk. “I ran into a friend from my old intramural lacrosse team. I don’t know if you ever met her, Liz Thompson?” 

It could be a mistake. If Tsu is already suspicious, giving her more of a trail to follow could fuel the fire for knowledge. But Liz is elusive enough on social media, so it shouldn’t be a problem. As long as Blaine ‘tweets his lunch order’ Star stays in the dark, it will turn out fine. Her private shame can remain private. 

Tsubaki squints slightly, equivalent to a murder-glare given her usually placid expressions. “No, I don’t think I have met her.” 

In a hurry to end this interaction before her friend ends her life, Maka finishes her drink and excuses herself, leaving both unsettled and further disappointed by her own actions. She’s lost something precious, something she used to value about herself: her sense of honesty.

* * *

 

Maka doesn’t know what to expect when Tsubaki texts her to meet for a beer after two weeks of radio silence. Nervous but determined not to garner further mistrust until everything blows over, she packs up her laptop and makes her way down the street to the pub she had been instructed to meet at. Worst case scenario, her friend has gotten ahold of Liz and has questions, but what could Liz possibly know? Nothing close to the whole story, for sure. If she gets called out, Maka will just admit to the sex without mentioning the fact that she may have gotten invested in in a guy. 

So much for getting her integrity and dignity back. 

When she walks into the pub, she scans the booths and the bar for the long black ponytail her friend has kept her hair in for the last decade. The room is surprisingly empty for happy hour with only a few patrons, none of which Maka recognizes, until her eyes land on the far corner booth. 

Her heart jumps up her throat and threatens to voice its opinions when she sees Soul sitting there looking at a magazine. He looks so thoughtful when he’s reading, and his jawline so appealing without the constant stubble and scruff of the wilderness. There’s a pencil tucked behind his ear -- does he do crosswords? He hasn’t spotted her yet, and her fight-or-flight response kicks in, tending more towards flight despite her general instinct to punch things. 

Maka is on her way out the door when she gets caught.

“Maka? What are you doing here?”

She pivots on one heel, legs no longer cooperating. Despite having a legitimate reason for being there, her words fail her, and instead of coming up with anything reasonable to say she stammers, “I was, uh… just came here to… Get a drink?”

“I mean, what are you doing in Portland?”   

“Uhhhh.” There’s no getting out of this one without piling on more elaborate lies and, damn it, she’s tired and emotionally compromised. “I live here.” 

The few people around them start to take notice of their interaction so Maka inches closer and slides into the booth across from him. Of all the hypothetical situations she imagined, this is not one of them and she doesn’t know how to handle the puzzled frown on Soul’s face. 

Still at a standstill, realization hits that Tsubaki still isn’t here and she may have been set up, though God knows how her friend pulled that one off. Struggling to keep her voice quiet and not draw more attention to them, she hisses, “Wait, why are you here? Did Tsubaki tell you to come here?”

“No, Blaine did.”

“What?” That scheming little cretin -- whatever Tsubaki had found out, she had clearly passed it onto Blaine and they had all conspired to get her to see Soul again. The worst part is that Soul was in on it, letting them trick her into this situation. “Blaine told you to come here to meet me? I didn’t know you were going to be here, I was supposed to be meeting my friend.” 

Soul winces. Maybe that came out a little harsher than intended. “No, Blaine told me to meet  _ him _ here. He said he was in town visiting, sent a Snapchat with a geotag and everything.” 

The mighty Black Star isn’t clever enough to fake that so he must really be in town somewhere, and when Maka finds out where she’s going to wring his beefy neck. Apparently they both got duped then, which doesn’t make her less pissed off but does serve to make her more embarrassed about snapping at Soul over something he didn’t do. 

“Why would he do that, though?” Maka is working double time to put the pieces together but hasn’t quite parsed it out yet. “Did you tell him about us?”  

“Kinda?” Soul rubs the back of his neck. “Nothing about anything that happened between us,” he reassures. “Just that I ran into you but that it was too bad you were living somewhere else. But I see now that wasn’t actually the case.” 

Maka ‘big fat liar’ Albarn chews her lip. She hadn’t explicitly said she was  _ not  _ going to be living in Portland, but she hadn’t admitted she was going to be living so close either. 

“I just want to know why.” After holding her gaze since he first saw her, he drops his eyes to the table and shakes his head. “I understood when I thought you weren’t going to be close by but... I don’t get it. Are you seeing someone else already or something?”

“No,” she blurts out, indignant at the thought, then remembers she’s still the guilty party here, repeating more gently, “No, I’m not seeing someone else.”

Soul, who has never expected anything of her, now expects an answer that actually means something. But when she thinks about how to verbalize her thoughts and feelings, it seems more and more like a bunch of stupid insecurities. She has to say something, though, and she has to say something that’s wholly true. 

“I didn’t want to stay in touch because… we don’t really know each other.”    

“How does that make  _ any _ sense,” he says. “After being together non-stop for a couple of months I would say we know each other pretty well, well enough not to be at each other’s throats while spending that much time together at least.” 

“We were in our own bubble, though, I’m not like that most of the time. I’m not that fun, adventurous, person you like all the time.” There’s more to a partnership than getting along on a superficial level, because if people don’t share the same values and goals, the getting along doesn’t last forever. Maka has seen that with the dissolution of her parents’ marriage. 

“What are you like the rest of the time, then?” 

That catches her off guard. What is it about herself that she worries so much will be undesirable? Thinking about her worst qualities isn’t exactly a fun time, but she needs something that gets Soul to understand she’s not someone he wants to start a relationship with. 

“I’m a high-strung workaholic who gets mad easily, I stay home reading on the weekends, and I don’t trust people because I’ve seen a lot of good people make bad mistakes in their relationships.” 

“I could’ve guessed all of that.” He has the nerve to sound like he’s not put off by it at the least. 

“And I lied to you,” Maka adds for good measure. “Well, maybe not lied exactly. But I didn’t tell you I was moving to Portland too, so you should probably be mad at me and never want to see me again.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely mad at you, but I still want to see you again.” 

“Ah,” she squeaks, all out of excuses and faced with her worst fear: someone who might genuinely like her and want to be with her. 

“Unless you’re going to lie to me again,” Soul says. “I don’t think I’m down for that, but the rest sounds fine to me.” 

It’s too much new information to process, and, still confused about what just happened, Maka nods without saying a word. 

“I know it’s not what you planned, but…” The pencil is out and he’s tearing off the corner of a magazine page. “If you want to talk more, or whatever, give me a call.” 

The ball is back in her court and she doesn’t know what to do with it.

* * *

 

First, Maka goes about filling in Tsubaki on the details since she clearly had already conspired with Blaine without having all the information. Her friend apologizes for making things awkward, then immediately scolds her for doing something as stupid as running out on Soul in the first place. 

“You’re going to call him, right?” 

They’re sitting on the floor of Maka’s bare-bones apartment, clay masks slathered on their faces, the magazine scrap sitting between them. It’s the third time Tsubaki has come over since the Incident and every time is the same conversation. 

“You could try just texting him,” Tsubaki coaxes. 

Maka lies down on the carpet. “What if it’s a landline?” 

“I don’t think anyone under the age of seventy has a landline anymore. Do you want me to text him for you? You can double check the text before I send it.” 

Maka sighs, “No, it’s fine, I’ll do it eventually.” 

On repeat, ad nauseum, until there’s a knock on the door and Maka bolts upright. 

“You didn’t invite him over here, did you?!” The skin care samples Liz had sent her are going to be the end of her now. Of all the unflattering ways Soul has seen her, this is the worst. Another familiar voice comes through the door, though.

“Open up, Shrimpy, your savior has arrived.” 

“You invited Blaine over?” Maka hisses at Tsubaki, creeping over to take the chain off the door before it gets busted off the hinges. 

“No! I told you I was done with meddling, I just told him I was at your apartment.”

...And he invited himself. Well, that’s to be expected and, knowing he was in town, she’s surprised he didn’t show up sooner. Resigned to her fate, Maka opens the door. Blaine crashes into the apartment and she’s immediately glad she doesn’t really have any furniture yet. 

“Whoa Maks, I think you’re a little late on the skin treatments. You shoulda started thinking about those frown lines when you were twelve. Maybe if you lightened up a little,” he says, plopping himself on the floor. “I have a flight to catch so let’s get this over with.”

“Yeah, let’s get you the hell out of my apartment,” Maka growls. 

Predictably she is ignored entirely. “How’s the operation going, Tsu?”

“There is no operation, I’m just being a supportive friend.” Tsubaki stands up to rinse her face in the kitchen sink, leaving Maka’s phone and Soul’s phone number unattended. 

It doesn’t take long for Blaine to see the opportunity and he snatches them both up before Maka can make it back across the room crying, “Don’t you dare!”

“Babe, you just don’t know what’s good for you.” Blaine winks and starts typing rapidfire. “Nice keeping the same unlock code since sixth grade -- the year my girl, Ruth Bader, was born.” 

“Don’t call me _babe_ , you disgusting little cretin,” she shrieks, diving across the room to tackle her former friend, current nemesis. The magnificent Black Star does not bluff, so if she doesn’t get her phone back soon he’s going to--

“Sent!” He bops her on the nose with her phone and scrambles out from under her grasp. “You can thank me later, I’m off to do more good deeds.” 

“Oh my god, I did not mean for him to come here, I am so sorry, Maka,” Tsubaki gushes and comes back to huddle around the phone. “What did he say?”

“Just a second,” Maka mumbles.

Everything grinds to a halt until she gets back into her messages to see what damage has been done. She expects the worst; Blaine has long made a habit of ruining her life. He probably put something gross and oversexualized, which isn’t the impression she wants to give out Soul.  _ When  _ she texted him, because she  _ did _ plan on texting him, eventually, she had wanted to plan what she was going to say. Make sure everything was perfect and she expressed herself like an adult. But now Blaine has gone and texted… 

//I want to see you again//

Six simple words without any frill. Maybe she won’t strangle Blaine after all. The virtual silence broken, she hastily adds, //this is maka btw///

His reply is quick and to the point. 

//when are you free?//

Followed by:

//can we go on a date or do you just want to talk things out more?//

She never expected Soul to be so forward, but maybe he’s trying to be more honest too. A piece of her is still tempted to run away screaming but she manages to talk herself down and let him know that she’s available Friday night. In a disgusting display of thoughtfulness, he asks what neighborhood to look for a place, and then suggests a Thai place near her apartment when she answers. 

//do you want to meet there or i can pick you up//

Even through text there’s a tender cautiousness in his questions that makes her heart tight. And hell if they’re going on a date he might as well pick her up. 

//ill warn you i ride a motorcycle so you should probably wear pants//

“I guess we’re going on a date.” Saying it aloud should make it real, but she’s still in shock over how quickly everything happened, especially with how fast Blaine came and went, shaking everything up in his path. She hadn’t even taken the time to think about if a date was what she really wanted. Now that the deed is done and she has time to process, there’s nervousness, sure, but beneath it a humming excitement. 

Despite only being a couple days away, it takes eons for Friday to roll around. Maka slumps at her desk and watches the minute change on her computer clock. 

“Did you sort those files by project yet?” Her boss’ voice jolts her back into reality. Maka had been looking forward to having a female supervisor, but Medusa is not exactly what she had in mind. The woman somehow has a nose for any momentary lapse in attention regardless of how hard one was working before she came by.

She has made good progress on the organization. Sorting on a computer was loads faster than having to file paper documents. The only downfall is that most of the files are scanned PDFs so she can’t search for keywords, but she’s getting there. “Not yet.”

“Well, get to it, Ms. Albarn. Those do need to be in by tonight, I trust you have overtime hours available?” 

“Um, yes, yes I do.”  _ Technically _ she hadn’t completed any of the recommended overtime hours for the week, but the real question is why is she working for a company that passive aggressively suggests people work extra with the bribe of increased hourly pay. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Medusa clicks away in her high heels with a dismissive wave.

It’s like she knows it is the most inconvenient time possible to request a long and tedious task to be finished. Either Maka can take her time and get paid for it, or she can rush to finish it so she actually has time to get ready for her date, and hell if she’s going to be late. The silver lining is with so much work to do it’s impossible to overthink how exactly to act on this date. She finishes ten minutes after five, which is next to a miracle considering the pile of outdated crap she had to sort through. Even the short delay in her schedule makes her miss her bus, taking another precious ten minutes out of her time to get ready. 

Showering and getting dressed doesn’t actually take long. She’s always been low maintenance and the only makeup she owns is an ancient tube of mascara she’s not sure she should still be using. Emotional preparation, on the other hand… For the entire hour she has before Soul shows up, she lies on her back on the air mattress remembering how to breathe. It’s stupid to be this agitated -- he’s already seen her naked after all. Or maybe not seen, per se, but  _ felt _ . He’s felt plenty. 

Her phone buzzes and simultaneously there’s a knock on the door. Maka sits up, hesitates between answering the text or answering the door when there’s another knock. 

“Just a second!” she calls. The notification on her phone is from Soul, with a text simply reading ‘here.’ Apparently it didn’t matter which she answered first considering it was him the whole time. Knocking, and texting, like human beings who aren’t living in a glorified canvas cocoon. Maka takes a deep breath, smoothes her hair down, grabs her coat, and opens the door. 

A helmet appears in front of her. “You’ll be needing this.” 

“Hello to you, too.” Soul looks good, as usual, in fact he looks better in black jeans and a leather jacket than in the cargo pants and windbreaker she’s used to. 

“Ready to go?” he asks. “You sure you’re okay with the motorcycle? It didn’t look like it would be too far to walk if you’re not comfortable with it.” 

“If I was planning on walking, I would’ve put on a skirt.” She takes the helmet and clips it on, not like her hair matters anyway. 

Soul shrugs. “Can’t really picture you in a skirt.”

She locks the door behind her and follows him down the stairs. “Surprisingly I do not wear a yellow puffy vest where people can see me.” 

“I think I can get used to a new wardrobe, if you can get used to me without a beard.” 

“I like it,” she blurts out, then realizes she doesn’t know how to compliment a guy and maybe she needs to explain. “I mean, the no beard thing, suits you. Beard was fine too but... I like this.” 

Explaining herself may have been overkill. One corner of his lips quirk up and he responds that he’ll keep it in mind. 

The motorcycle isn’t as scary as Maka thought it would be; mostly it’s just loud and a little cold. Soul yells something but it gets lost in the wind and she has to lean in closer to hear him repeat it. 

“Looks like you’re not that boring after all.”

Or she just has something to prove. They get to the restaurant in no time; it definitely is walking distance, though Maka’s idea of walking distance might be a little skewed now. A table for two later and she’s sitting across from the man she never intended on developing feelings for, but her life had stopped going according to plan quite some time ago.

“So what do you like to eat when you have more choices than oatmeal or beef jerky?” she asks. More importantly, will he think she’s super basic if she orders Pad See Ew. 

“Eh, I’m not picky, but I do like stuff spicy so don’t say I didn’t warn you before you steal a bite from my plate.” 

“Are we talking five-star spicy, or three-star spicy?” She’s all for a little sriracha in her top ramen, but Thai food can get dangerous.

“Four,” Soul answers. “You can always add more spice but it’s hard to take it out.”

“I’ll take my chances.”  

They order their food and Maka searches for things to talk about. She finds it’s easier to ask Soul about himself than to try to decipher what he would find interesting to hear. It’s good to learn more about him, though a part of her is still trying to sabotage everything by reminding her how little they have in common. He’s working as a software engineer, and while she understands each of those words individually, she doesn’t quite grasp what they mean in combination. Google is not helpful, either, telling her that a software engineer is someone who applies the principles of software engineering. She asks if he’s checked out the local music scene, since she hears Portland apparently has one and she knows he’s a musician of some kind. 

“No, not yet, any recommendations?” 

“Ah, no, I don’t know much about it,” she admits. Stupid to make an assumption. Stupid to try to talk about something she knows nothing about. 

Soul takes a bite of his curry and coughs, finishing his glass of water. “Maybe four stars was too much,” he says weakly. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Maka replies, glad she hadn’t tried any yet. 

The dull noise of the restaurant swallows her up as she fidgets her thumbs under the table. It feels like there’s a wall they still have to breathe through, and while she’s pretty sure she knows what the problem is, she doesn’t know how to approach it. The fact that she had ditched him in the woods has been eating at her. Sure, they had each started the hike as a solo trip, but over time had grown more dependent on each other, sharing supplies and splitting chores. Since Soul still had the tent, she hadn’t left him without a roof over his head, but she still doesn’t know how he’d fared for the last couple days of the trip. 

Something needs to be said.

“So how were things after… I, uh…” 

“After you abandoned me in the woods without any stove fuel?” 

Oh shit. Not only had she ditched him, she had ditched him unable to cook any food. “Oh my god, I didn’t realize that was all in my pack.” 

“You left me with all the food, so at least I had enough that could be eaten as is.” He shrugs and heaps more rice into his curry in a futile effort to tame the spice. “I think you might have my headlamp too.” 

No light, either -- next she’s going to find out he was harassed by coyotes and barely made it back alive. 

“It turned out surprisingly okay, though,” Soul says. “I was all confused and mopey and forgot about being afraid to be by myself.” 

“Glad you got a silver lining out of it, I guess.” Still ashamed of her own cowardice, Maka stirs her tea to have something to do besides peeling her fingernails into tiny pieces. “I’m really sorry for putting you in that situation, especially without any warning.”

“I can’t exactly say it’s okay, but I can accept the apology.” Soul slides a hand across the table until his pinky brushes her elbow and she stops stirring. “It definitely sucked pretty bad, but I think ultimately it was good for me to see what I could do on my own.” 

The more she thinks about it, the worse it sounds. “I’m just glad nothing bad happened, I don’t know how I justified it to myself leaving like that.” 

He sighs. “I don’t think I can explain what’s going on in your head either, but it’s in the past now. We can probably both stand to learn from it, but I’m ready to put it behind us.”

“I give you permission to hold it over my head at least a couple times.” 

“Dunno how I feel about extorting you, I mean… all I want is--” He pauses, pulling his hand back to his side of the table. “What I’m hoping is that you’d be willing to keep hanging out, in whatever context. But that should be something you actually want to do, not something you do because you feel bad about doing a shitty thing.” 

He’s too good and she’s bound to do something stupid again. But she can’t make his choices for him, only do her best to be a reasonable person. 

“Do you want to go back to my apartment to talk more?” Maka asks. “I don’t have much set up yet, but I have tea.”

“Tea sounds just fine.” 

They split the check and head back to the apartment. She sets her purse down on the inside of the door since she has yet to purchase anything resembling shelves or a coat rack. Furniture would be nice, but getting someone with a car to take her someplace would involve asking for a favor. 

Soul looks around, takes in the empty walls, the bean bag serving as her writing station, and the air mattress in the corner. “I thought this was supposed to be civilization.” 

“Ha. Ha. You can set up your tent in the corner if you don’t like it.” Maka walks briskly into the kitchen before he can respond, realizing that she may have insinuated he could sleep over. Her air mattress is pretty small too, though she has to admit it was nice sleeping close to him. Part of her always knew it would be, that’s why she had to avoid it for so long because now she’s fantasizing about being spooned. 

“What kind of tea do you have?” Soul asks, peeking in the cupboard over the sink. 

Maka wants to snap at him to quit looking at stuff, despite the lack of stuff to look at. Breathe. It is normal to have someone else in the apartment, and he’s probably not looking for something to judge her for. She fills up the electric water kettle and turns it on, saying, “Just basics, black, green, chamomile.” 

“Green sounds good, I’m not ready to fall asleep yet.” 

So he plans on being up for a while, does that mean he plan on staying for a while too? She tears open the tea bags and takes the only two mugs she owns out of the cupboard: one from her alma mater, and one from some corporate giveaway table. 

“You work for ‘Happy Home Design Solutions?’” He squints at the logo. 

“Oh, no, I work at a publishing company, I just can’t say no to free stuff.” 

“Learning new stuff about you all the time, I’ll put that down in the notes: doesn’t like to buy things.” 

If he’s going to get all richy-rich on her, he can show himself out. “Hey, I don’t get paid enough to buy things. Rent here is highway robbery.” 

“Maka,” he says, hand infinitely light on her shoulder. “You know I’m joking with you, right? I got my couch at Goodwill.” 

“You can put that in your notes, too, ‘no sense of humor.’ Now give me back that cup.” She pours steaming water in each of their mugs, leaving them standing in silence, stewing in fragments of new information while the tea steeps. 

Soul leans against the fridge and glances around the kitchen, probably sleuthing for more information. She could stand to be less private but she’s taking baby steps just inviting him into her space. When he tilts to the side, her eyes land on the single photo on her fridge, the one her dad had put up when he had come to drop off a box of her clothes. 

“You need something to make it feel like home, baby girl. Don’t you remember how much fun we had on that trip?” her father had told her.

He’d fixed a picture to the fridge with earthquake putty which he had brought along since she was apparently ‘practically living on a volcano.’ It’s not like she has a lot to hold down, anyway, but the photo stuck. 

“It was fun,” she’d agreed, "except I cried when I met Mickey Mouse. No mouse has any business having a head that ginormous.” 

She’s smiling in the picture, about five years old, parents on either side of her in front of the Disneyland entrance. It was that trip that had opened her eyes to how much her parents argued, even if they’d tried to keep it in hushed voices in the bathroom. As an adult she suspects the trip was an attempt to save their crumbling marriage, but they were just too different to begin with. Now she has to look at it all the time because her father put it there and she can’t bear to take it down. 

Realizing she’s staring over Soul’s shoulder, Maka quickly averts her eyes and hopes he won’t notice what she was looking at. But of course it’s her hurried head tilt that tips him off, and he turns to take in her childhood memory.

“This is your family,” he says. Statement not question. “You look a lot like your dad.” 

Maka is so used to being compared to her mom, from inheriting her coloring and round eyes, to following the same career path. The comparison to her father catches her off guard, and she’s left unsure if she should be flattered or offended. 

“Your smile is really similar,” Soul continues. “Did you go on a lot of trips when you were younger?” 

“That was the last one all together. My parents tried to stay together another couple of years after that but… spent a good amount of time apart to keep the peace. Textbook anxious-avoidant trap, according to the family counselor they tried going to.” It’s not like her to actually tell someone about her family history; the only people in the know were the ones who were there to witness the whole sequence of events. Blaine had his annoying qualities, but having someone she didn’t have to explain herself to was a blessing. If there is potential of anything more serious between her and Soul though, maybe it’s time to let him in on a few things.

Soul sips his tea, unfazed with this sudden outpouring. “Do you think they were just holding onto things for the sake of history?” 

“Oh, probably that, and not wanting to have a ‘broken’ family, as if things were intact the way they were.” The surface of her tea trembles, thanks to steady hands gone shaky. She’s living on a fault line, unsure how the release of tectonic pressure will end up, after years of grinding her feelings into a more palatable size. “Do you want to go sit in the other room?”

Without real chairs, they sit on the side of the air mattress. It dips with the uneven weight, tilting them closer together as if reading Maka’s conflicting desires for distance and affection. 

Setting his mug on the floor leaves both of Soul’s hands open and available to hold. He speaks quietly when Maka reaches to lock a single pinky finger with one of his. “You don’t have to keep talking about this if it brings up too many tough feelings. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.” 

“Make sure you jot that down: total downer about normal conversation topics.” She tries to laugh but it feels hollow in her throat. 

“Maka…” 

She hates the concern in his voice, the sincerity. “Don’t give me that look, I’m just joking.”

“You can’t joke your way out of it every time you start getting a little serious.” 

Called out. There’s no escape besides actually telling him that she does want to try sharing those pieces of herself, it’s just a lot all at once. Having him here, in her space, trying to be more open with another person. 

“I’ll tell you something serious,” she whispers. “I’ve only really seen what  _ not _ to do in relationships, so I’m pretty sure I would mess it up if I tried to have one.” 

“I bet you could figure it out with some practice.” 

Ah, yes. Practice. Just like how the whole casual hookup thing was supposed to be practice before it totally blew up in her face when she caught feelings but couldn’t handle them. Now Soul is here, but after all the shit she put him through, he probably won’t want anything to do with her after this. 

“I want to tell you something serious, too,” he says. He certainly sounds it. Maka steels herself for the worst. The blow hits. “I don’t think I want to do the whole friends-with-benefits thing.” 

It makes sense; the situation had been starting to make her feel crappy, so it’s logical he would want to put an end to it too. After hearing some of the baggage he might be dealing with, it stands to reason he would want out. They were able to resolve some of the leftover tension from her leaving too, so she should be happy about that. Still, having anything end is painful, and being on the receiving end of rejection even more so. 

“I understand,” she says, scooting over to give him more space. “Where do you want to leave things between us, then?” 

“Depends,” he answers with another question. “Are you opposed to having a boyfriend?” 

“In general, yes.” Is he implying what she thinks he’s implying? She doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions. “I could make an exception, though, for the right person.” 

“Do you think I would be a reasonable choice?” He has a dumb half-smile on his lips like he already knows what she’s going to say. 

Well, if he’s going to be cocky about it, she might as well mess with him. Just a little. Act like she has to think really hard about it as if she hasn’t been agonizing over the lost possibility for the last few weeks. She finishes the last sip of her tea, sets the mug down, and shrugs, saying, “You’re alright.” 

Soul only has a moment to look perplexed before Maka makes sure her message came across with a sound kiss. He catches on pretty quick. Eager to be close to him again, she threads her fingers into his hair and it’s softer than she remembers, probably thanks to to whatever amazing smelling shampoo he’s been using. 

“I missed kissing you,” she sighs, and it feels good to admit it. 

“Just to be clear, though,” he says. “That wasn’t just a ‘friends messing around’ kind of kiss, right?” 

“Right.” 

Reservations out the window completely, he cups her face and pulls her back in. There’s a switch that’s flipped; knowing that there’s more to it lets her relax in way she couldn’t before. Maka doesn’t feel like she has to put on a performance anymore. All she has to do is focus on how amazing it is to be close again, the feedback loop between them Soul’s hands glide up her sides and she clutches his shoulders for dear life. She’s still a little terrified of the future, but it feels right to be together, like it’s actually worth it to be fully invested. 

With emotions running high, Maka doesn’t know how to proceed so she breaks away to check. “Hey, I need to ask: are you up for having sex tonight or do you want to slow down?” 

“You always were one to be direct about that sort of thing.” Soul laughs. “Direct and impatient.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she huffs. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I don’t have any condoms on me. So unless you have some, maybe we could try something else.” 

Hopefully now that they’ve established what’s going on between them, this won’t keep happening. “You mean you don’t want to go a gas station  _ right now _ to buy some?” she says, remembering the last time they were in this predicament.

“Not particularly.” 

Maka backs in so their foreheads touch. “ _ Something else _ sounds fine.” 

As time goes by, that mysterious ‘something else’ apparently includes his palm pressed warm against her clit, two fingers buried inside her, while her hand is on his dick. He stirs and curls his fingers, touching something deeply hidden. It makes her whimper and lose any and all focus directed towards making Soul come. Slowly, deliberately, he withdraws his face from the crook of her neck where he’s been making steady progress on a series of hickeys. 

“Where are you going?” Maka asks. 

“Nowhere,” he says, devilish and innocent in one. He kneels at the foot of the air mattress, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, just above the knee. “Just thought about something else I wanted to try. I was just, um…” Watching his cheeks pink, she thinks she knows what he might suggest but she wants to hear him say it anyway. “Was just thinking I could kiss you somewhere else.”

She can take a hint, but is also aware of an obvious and pressing issue at hand. “What about you?”  

“We can worry about that later.” The pace at which he kisses his way up her thigh is excruciating and the anticipation may kill her before he gets there. “Taking turns would probably be more effective anyway.” 

All she can do is hum in agreement before dissolving because his tongue is going to make her melt. It’s incredible what she’s been missing out on keeping things so routine in their previously casual sex life. Soul keeps one finger slow and steady stroking her walls while he lavishes further attention with his mouth. So when she comes, hard, she tightens around him in waves. Once she can breathe again, she pulls him close to her and kisses away the stupid grin on his face. 

“I think I like this whole ‘relationship with benefits’ thing,” Maka says, further manhandling him until she’s the one kneeling. 

Incorrigible, the smile returns. “I think it’s alright.” 

  
  



End file.
